Battle Cry
by BleedingCoffee
Summary: An assassination attempt on Prince Claudio sparks a war with Aerugo. This war, the State Alchemists are sent in first and along with them...the Fullmetal Alchemist.
1. Cry 'Havoc' and Let Slip the Dogs of War

**Summary** : An assassination attempt on Prince Claudio sparks a war with Aerugo. This war, the State Alchemists are sent in first and along with them...the Fullmetal Alchemist.

 **AN:** Because of the Second War AU on Tumblr, was started as a gift fic and reworked as a horrible AU for the FMA Fic Contest prompt #316 , Outside of Amestris. This is loosely based on the Wii games Prince of the Dawn and Daughter of the Dusk.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own FMA.

* * *

 _Battle Cry_

Chapter 1

 **Cry 'Havoc', and Let Slip the Dogs of War**

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Xxxxxxxxxxx

 _Village of Prospettiva_

 _Aerugo, 1914_

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Ed tugged at his uniform collar in an attempt to convince himself that it was the clothing that was impeding his breathing and not the air that hung heavy with smoke and death. He walked down the alley alone towards the screams and explosions, his boots carrying him forward despite his heart racing and the tears that stung his eyes. He was alone, disobeying Mustang's direct order to stay back and hold the perimeter, but he couldn't ignore it much longer. They were at war and, as scared and alone as he felt, he now wore the uniform of a Major and the responsibility of the soldier that came with it.

War was upon Amestris once again, this time with its neighbor to the South. Prince Claudio of Aerugo visited Central a few months ago, under the guise of peace talks, and what followed was a terrorist attack, an assassination attempt and a call for war. Claudio disappeared before they could stop him and Colonel Mustang was blamed for the events. After the inquiry Lieutenant Hawkeye was saddled with the accusations that she had shot at the Prince in an attempt to take his life, not save it, and the attacks were simply retaliation. It was argued that the terrorists were simply taking advantage of an opportunity presented by the Prince's visit and the commotion that the peace talks caused. Ed could still remember the blank look on Mustang's face, the shock that he was being thrown to the wolves so the military could shutdown rumors that they fell for Claudio's plot to infiltrate Central. It was all above his head and as hard as he and Al tried to help, it felt like a unseen force was pushing back to keep them from discovering too much.

As Mustang and his team spent their days in Central Command answering for their actions, Ed found it impossible to leave Central. He was the only one free to investigate things and Al had made a new friend by the name of Elena. After the investigations division kicked in their door at the military dorms, they learned she was Claudio's sister. She was then placed under house arrest at the Armstrong estate for her own safety during the trials. When they received word that war was declared and the team was being sent to the front, Alphonse chose to stay with the Armstrongs to protect Elena. He also agreed to puppy-sit Black Hayate while Hawkeye was in jail and Fuery was in Aerugo. At least Al was safe and that was the only thing going right for him now.

Ed stopped to catch his breath, the air was very hard to breathe. He was trying so very hard to not look at the debris or bodies he was stepping over by occupying his mind with the activities of the last three months to try and find the answers he might have overlooked. It seemed to be how he spent his days now, looking back instead of forward, and the irony wasn't lost on him. Everything went to hell so fast, before he knew it he was on a train heading South after reassuring his little brother he would be fine.

 _Everything_ happened so fast. It seemed like he no sooner fell asleep on the train than he was suddenly on his way to the front. Sure it was over the course of a month, but when you're dreading something it seems to come on you so much faster. Even now, as he walked down the streets of an abandoned village as part of the State Alchemist unit, he struggled to move past denial as his mind replayed everything: Hawkeye's arrest, the probe into Mustang's handling of the tactical team and then the call for war. Mustang was cleared of any charges just in time to be ordered to the front: the Flame Alchemist and Hero of Ishval was being sent off to war again, this time he was going to take the newest State Alchemist with him.

That's where it seemed to slow down in his memory. Mustang towering over him and informing him of his orders. The argument that ensued, his own screams at the stoic man who just stood there and let him rant. By God, he wasn't going to kill anyone and nothing was going to change that! Mustang laid it out for him: disobeying an order of this caliber meant that he would face a court martial. There was nothing he could do for Al in jail and eventually Al's blood seal would fade and Al's soul along with it. He wanted to hit him, but instead just left to talk it over with his brother. Mustang was right, he had no choice. Well, save one, which was to not speak to that man again. Yet here he was, stumbling his way through the burning town trying to find the Colonel. If he could find him, he could maybe stop this destruction. Help someone. Stop the dying.

Ed tried so hard to avoid looking at the bodies and burnt houses, but finally couldn't avoid it any longer. This was his first battle and he was absolutely overwhelmed. He had been through so much in his life, yet nothing could even remotely prepare him for the horrors of war. He was terrified and mortified as he walked through this Aerugo village in the wake of both Mustang and Kimblee. The carnage was unrivaled. The General commanding, he forgot his name already, ordered in alchemists first: Human weapons. The words once were enough to turn his stomach and now he had so much more...so much more that made him want to scream at the top of his lungs that he was _just a kid_! He wanted to go home! _Take the damned watch and title and just let me go home!_

Ed closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. He had to think like an alchemist, he had to stop looking at the reality of what was in front of his eyes and start seeing the composition of it all in terms of science. He needed to start _thinking_ and stop _looking_ , he needed to stop seeing what had already been done and start thinking about what he could do. He had legs, he had to _keep moving forward._ He wasn't a coward and he wasn't a hypocrite, he had to _keep moving forward_.

Finally he pushed himself away from the building and started to advance again. He could feel the heat intensify and felt an explosion ahead. Mustang had to be close, he heard some screams and soldiers barking orders. Some gunfire and more screams. He pressed forward and wondered what he was doing. How was this going to fix anything now? It was too late, he was already in too deep. It might be his first battle, but there was no turning back and he couldn't blame anyone but himself for this. Before he knew it he stumbled and tripped on something and ended up face first in the blood soaked dirt road. He coughed and dirt stuck to his wet cheeks as he turned and looked at what he had tripped on.

His golden eyes grew wide as he looked at a charred corpse. The flesh was crisped and adipose tissue boiled underneath it, the body stank of burnt hair, fabric and overcooked meat. He had struggled to keep down the contents of his stomach this far, but there was no stopping it from coming up now. He vomited and tried to crawl away but the soldier's burned hand somehow stuck to the fabric of his uniform pants. He heaved again, tears streaking down his cheeks and panic beginning to wrack his body as his throat and mouth tasted the bile. He screamed out in attempt to get control of himself, trying to scream away everything that had him frozen in place crying like a little boy.

Mustang heard the cry, the pitiful wail of a scared soldier who just wanted something to 'get off him' and 'get away'. Then he turned and listened, focusing on the sound of the voice. He could hear Kimblee's blasts from here, at least it drowned out the maniacal cackling of the lunatic. His eyes darted to the sound of the voice and he knew who it was. "Fullmetal?"

Ed's eyes stung with tears and smoke as he wiped his mouth and tried to will himself to move again. _Keep moving forward!_ He jumped, an involuntary reaction to someone touching him in the chaos. He looked up, terrified he would be looking at a burned body come back to life, but instead he saw a familiar face. "Colonel?"

"Dammit Ed, why the hell can't you follow orders?" Mustang looked at the body the kid had tripped over. Dammit, he was trying to spare him this!

"Get your hands off me!" Ed snapped and swatted the gloved hand away. He was unable to stop the flow of words from his mouth as he shook under the gaze of his commander. Just moments earlier he had laid the blame on his own shoulders for this, but when Mustang emerged out of the smoke he just wanted to hit him and blame him instead. He was just a damned kid, what the hell was he doing here? Why did this bastard recruit him for this? Mustang was an adult, he was a soldier...he knew this would happen. " Those damned hands that cause this!"

Roy cursed inwardly, he didn't have time for this. Especially since Ed was traveling down a path that he already had been down years earlier when his own idealism had been crushed by the tides of war. "Ed, listen to me..."

"No! I listened to you and look where it got me!" Ed started to sob as he tried to kick the sticky hand of the mutilated soldier off his leg. Of course it had to be his flesh leg that it touched. _Of course_. "I'm a dog of the military and it's all because of you! Why couldn't you have just left me alone, left me to think the most horrible thing I could ever see was that...thing I brought back when we did human transmutation. What you do...is so much worse."

Roy swallowed hard. It wasn't just the shattered innocence of a teenager, it was the disgust of an alchemist talking. Ed really felt that the taboo of human transmutation was the worst that alchemy could do and now he knew he was wrong. He must have written off Tucker as an exception, surely the man was just twisted and misapplied his knowledge. No, Ed was finally seeing that alchemists could do so much more damage and suddenly Ed's world was shaken. The shock of his first battle was compounded by the aftershocks of his core beliefs being mangled right before his eyes. Roy felt the wind blow and knew that the smoke would began to drift away from the area. Soon they would no longer be masked by the fires. "Dammit Ed, not now. We need to get you out of here."

Ed continued to stare at the hand on his leg, it wouldn't let go and the oozing flesh and fatty tissue began to seep into the polyester of his uniform pants. He was shaking now and his voice cracked, but he didn't want to move. As appalled as he was by Mustang's proximity and the evidence of his work, he felt relieved he was here. He hated being so conflicted and unsure of himself, but couldn't find it in him to let that anger rise to the surface and push past everything else he was feeling. "You're the one who made me come here. What the hell Mustang? You can't suddenly pretend to feel remorse now."

Roy wrapped his arm around the boy and tugged him away from the body. He could hear Kimblee practically singing for joy on the rooftop now and he didn't want to be exposed when the smoke lifted. He didn't need the headache when this ended up in Crimson's _ever so detailed_ reports. Ed squirmed and tried to fight him as he dragged him into the alley. Then the kid just slumped to the ground where he dropped him and choked back tears and vomit. "Listen to me Ed, you can yell and scream and beat the hell out of me later but right now you need to _listen_."

"Fuck you." Ed spat. "What, are you going to melt my skin off if I don't listen?"

"None of us, save Kimblee, want to be here. This whole damned campaign is Bradley's doing, he is the one who had Prince Claudio shot at. He's the one who started this damned war with Aerugo and he's using it to tear down my team. Hawkeye's in Central facing a military tribunal for her part in the suspected assassination of Prince Claudio and unless I find the bastard and bring him back to prove he was planning to attack Central...she's going to be executed. Bradley's the one holding Claudio's sister hostage at the Armstrong Estate with Alphonse. Bradley's got us both in a damned corner and the last thing I wanted to do was have you here at war. Dammit Fullmetal, why the hell can't you follow orders and just stay on the perimeter like I told you? There is no chance of anyone pushing back into the plains with Kimblee and I destroying this town. You were supposed to stay put!"

Ed heard his brother mentioned and suddenly looked up at Mustang and saw him through his blurry eyes. The man's face was wracked with distress, his normally cool and arrogant demeanor nowhere to be found. He was unguarded, emotions written all over his face as he finally unloaded everything that had been on his shoulders since that incident in Central three months ago. Ed finally focused and said, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"So you could defect and attack Central? It took everything in my power to get you to shut up, put the uniform on and get on the train." Mustang shook his head and then looked over at the plaza. _He didn't have time for this._ "Look, I have to get back to work or Kimblee is going to report to Bradley that I'm not behaving myself. All you need to know right now is that both Al and Hawkeye are in very real danger back home. Their lives are on the line and we need to find this damned Prince and bring him back to grant their stay of execution. Do you understand Ed?"

Ed nodded and watched Mustang stand up.

"Good. Now go watch the perimeter. My hands are already stained with blood I can never wash off, there is no reason for you to get any on yours. I'm trying Ed, I am trying to keep you out of this but right now everything is against me. I need you to stop fighting me on this, I know damned well what I got you into and if you don't think it keeps me up at night..."

Ed blinked and watched him turn away before he could finish his sentence. A snap preceded an explosion that rocked the square and illuminated the Colonel's silhouette in the alley. Then the flames subsided and he disappeared into the smoke again. He rubbed his eyes and got up. It was time to be a good dog and obey the Master.


	2. It is a Damned and a Bloody Work

**AN:** Chapter titles are/will be Shakespeare quotes. Chapter 1, _Julius Caesar_ and this chapter _Henry VI, Part II_.

* * *

 _Battle Cry_

Chapter 2

" **It is a Damned and a Bloody Work"**

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Edward Elric was not someone who looked away from reality or his own mistakes, it wasn't in his nature. Today, however, he had learned that maybe he wasn't Fullmetal after all. Perhaps there really was something in this world he couldn't face head-on. Before today the most horrifying experiences in his life revolved around alchemy and that hadn't changed; Al's body vaporizing in front of his eyes, the agony of losing his limbs, the bone-chilling presence of Truth and the _thing_ they created when they tried to bring back Mom, Nina...it all paled in comparison to what had happened today.

It was a different kind of horror here that revolved more around the power of alchemy to obliterate. If human transmutation created an abomination...human perversion of alchemy for destruction was an atrocity. Maybe it was a sin to try to create life, but it was an attempt to _create_ something. The act was riddled with pride and ignorance, but his intentions were noble. There was nothing righteous about this and there were no ambiguous moral lines to question; This was war, yet another word he never truly grasped the meaning of until now.

"Hey, Ed."

He looked up as Lieutenant Breda came over and offered him a cup of coffee. He smiled weakly and took it, hoping the beverage would wash the taste of disgust and the days events from his mouth. "Thanks."

Breda wished that Havoc was here instead of in a bed in Central. He and Falman had tried to not listen to Mustang tear into the kid in the car on the drive back to camp, but he was pretty sure his half-deaf grandmother heard that conversation back in Central. Jean had a way of just shutting Mustang down when he got fired up and over-protective without realizing how much damage he was doing. "Look Ed..."

"I get it." Ed said simply. "I heard Mustang. It's a war zone and I am a soldier. I have to follow orders or I'm going to get someone killed."

"Ed. He's lost Hughes. Havoc was injured right in front of his eyes. Hawkeye is facing serious charges and will take the blame to protect him." Breda looked up as he heard Kimblee's excited voice and realized this conversation was going to have to happen another time. Kimblee's eerie smile and inappropriate joy put them both on edge, so he tried to chase off the creepy criminal alchemist before he could harass the kid. "Shouldn't you be doing some paperwork?"

Kimblee crossed his arms and looked down at the Lieutenant with a cocked eyebrow. "I'm trying to do my field appraisal of the famous Fullmetal Alchemist here. I must have missed your participation in the battle, kid."

"That's because I ordered him to secure the town behind us." Mustang walked over to the gathering and eyed Kimblee. It made bile rise up into his throat thinking that Riza was facing a death sentence when this lunatic was freed from his life sentence. Kimblee was paroled and reporting on them and probably ordered to kill Prince Claudio as soon as he was in range. Bradley was a piece of work.

"Awww." Kimblee cooed. "I remember when you were the starry eyed idealist having your soul crushed and heart blackened back in Ishval. How cute you try to shelter the new pup."

"My subordinate, my decision." Mustang replied coldly.

Breda gripped his coffee cup as he felt the tension between those two rise. Hairs stood up on the back of his neck and he realized it wasn't just a sixth sense, but the crackle of alchemic energy beginning to glow at their fingertips. Well it was time to start defusing situations himself, Havoc and Hawkeye sure as hell weren't here to do it. "Sir, casualty reports are on your desk. We took the liberty of filling out as many reports as possible for you so we can get them sent back to Central on the returning supply train."

"Ooh." Kimblee rubbed his hands together and looked Mustang in the eye. Those dark eyes stared back at him with no emotion, unlike the sobbing Major who kept him awake back in Ishval. Someone finally grew a thicker skin. "Love to see those. I want to make sure it's accurately recorded who did the killing here."

"Need to report back to your parole officer?" Roy asked dryly. "Make sure he knows you're not turning on your own people again?"

"How do you know that's not why I'm here?" Kimblee winked. "Think your flames can stop me from turning you inside out? How about a little alchemy roshambo, Toasty?"

"I don't want to have to fill out any _more_ paperwork, even if it's your death certificate." Roy glanced down at Ed. "Come on Fullmetal, I need you to report so I can get my own started."

Ed stood slowly and looked up at Kimblee as the man flashed him a happy smile that make him feel as sick as he was when that burnt body touched him. He followed Mustang, the good dog obeying the order to _come_ without having to be told twice, but he was too drained to come up with a snappy comeback.

He made his way into the field tent and sat down on a crate that was being used as a chair. He had already showered twice, trying to get the smell off him and the smoke stench out of his hair, but Mustang still reeked of it. The human ooze that was on his leg still felt like it was there even though he practically scrubbed himself raw. He knew that the wretched stench of blood, piss, burnt human and smoke was simply embedded in his sinus cavity and wasn't going to come out anytime soon, but it didn't stop him from trying to rid himself of it. He heard Mustang shuffle around trying to rid himself of his own uniform jacket that had the same horrors embedded in every weave of the fabric. He sat there in silence, feeling so lost and alone despite his commander trying to be friendly. He missed Al, but was so glad he was not here to see this. Al would be crushed and as Mustang sat down in front of him he suddenly understood what the older man was trying to do; he was trying to protect him despite this worst possible scenario.

"I'm not going to lie to you, nothing you've seen here is ever going to be erased from your brain. Not the sights, not the smells, not the sick feeling in your gut. Nothing will wipe it away, even if you bury it so deep you have a hard time distinguishing it from a dream...something along the way will trigger that memory to come flooding back. It will haunt you until the day you die." Roy reached over and grabbed the shot glasses and whiskey. "So as much as I regret destroying your innocence and life...here is a shot of the only thing I have found that helps burn the memories from the back of your eyes for a little while."

Ed watched him push the shot glass to him and down his own with a flick of his wrist. The whole time he had known Mustang, the man was wrapped in this cloak of mystery, arrogance and misleading words. Now, however, he was seeing the truth; not some sinister looking god with a toothy grin, but a darkness lingering over a man who suddenly looked so small and worn down. The smoke that enveloped the battlefield had nothing on this shroud of despair and depression Mustang wore like his famous gloves or black trench coat. Roy Mustang was suddenly so very human. "How..can you do it?"

"There is a quote from famous general that goes, "Duty then is the sublimest word in the English language. You should do your duty in all things. You can never do more, you should never wish to do less."(1) It was inscribed in a brass plaque outside the gates of the military academy. Every day we went to class, we walked through that gate and I read that same inscription over and over."

"So you think it's OK to burn people because it's your duty?" Ed asked, not a single bit of emotion in his question. He just wanted an answer, he didn't have the strength to be judgmental.

"Not finished." Roy said and held up his finger. "What it means is that when we swore an oath to our country, when we accepted this role and donned this uniform, that we vowed to do our duty above all else. That duty was supreme, it is above _all else_. That we set aside our personal feelings, moral obligations and self preservation to put our service before ourselves. That protecting our country, and with it the people we love, that we are willing to sacrifice ourselves to do that duty."

Ed wasn't in the mood for one of Mustang's eloquent speeches or philosophical diatribes, but he couldn't stop him. He was literally pouring out his life's meaning here along with the amber liquid he was pouring into his glass.

"It means something different to everyone, Ed. Duty to me means following orders, even if I don't like them, because that is what my military service means to me. A military without strict adherence to orders is simply an armed mob. It means giving up my own personal wants..." Roy set the bottle on the table and thought of Riza before sending the burning liquid into his mouth and down his throat. "For that purpose. It also means that I have a duty to change things, like Ishval and this war with Aerugo, into things that remain in the history books as a lesson for future generations. My duty is to stop history from repeating itself, by taking down Bradley's regime. If that ends in my own execution, so be it, but that man is abusing the oath that we all took. He is not the leader this country needs and he cares nothing for it."

Ed took the shot glass and looked at it. Never in his life had he tried to drink anything alcoholic. Sure he tasted some wine, but this hard stuff was different. It was meant to erase memories not celebrate an occasion. It was also the only way Mustang seemed to know how to be friendly.

"I can do it because...if I do it means someone else doesn't have to. As long as I do what I am told I can maintain some kind of control over this. As long as I do what I am supposed to I can wait on a opportunity to change things. So as long as Bradley is in charge this isn't going to stop, but we are going to have to make the best of what we are given. Right now Al and Hawkeye have no idea of the ultimatum that I have been given. Hawkeye probably suspects it, but that's not the point. The point is that one step outside the line seals the fate of everyone who works for me. I refuse to go to work, a sniper puts a bullet in my head. Next my staff is executed or killed in action and you are burdened with the ultimatum instead: to conform or lose your brother. I assure you, it's not going to happen."

"What...did he say he was going to do to Al?" Ed felt the fear grip him again, that chill he felt earlier when he was in battle. He felt like he had to keep looking over his shoulder in the shadows to keep it at bay, keep looking around to convince himself he was safe in camp and this horrid feeling of panic could just subside. It wasn't going away and it just kept getting worse. That feeling he had in Central, like someone was working against them, was returning as Mustang talked about Bradley.

"Break his blood seal." Roy replied quietly. "Though I'm sure Bradley is probably hoping you'll rebel against me so he can tear into me for not being able to handle my subordinate. He knows you're the most insubordinate stubborn shit in Amestris. Sending you to war, will either break you or destroy me."

"You could have told me." Ed said simply. The old him would have stood up, kicked the crate at Mustang's head and punched him for keeping the secret...but that old him was left on a train platform in Central to wither away and die. With everything his eyes had just seen, everything he just smelled and felt, there was going to be no way he could ever return to the cocky youth he was. So there was no point in fighting with Mustang because he needed the son of a bitch to trust him with the truth. If there was anything he needed to cling to, it was truth. So as Mustang swallowed another shot of alcohol he hoped the man would continue sharing his knowledge with him. "I need to know."

"My duty is to ensure that this burden stays on my shoulders and not yours. Telling you this was not my first or tenth choice. I knew as soon as you shook off the shell shock you'd be trying to protect those people. Ed, if you do that it will be considered treason. Don't hand yourself over like that. I'll figure something out, but for now...we wage war."

"I can't." Ed said softly. "I won't kill someone. Lives mean too much, I don't care who's life it is. Al would understand."

"Your duty, Fullmetal, is to stay alive and fulfill your oath to your brother." Mustang watched him put the shot glass back down. "Let me do my job."

"Burning people?" Ed asked.

"Protecting my people, any way I can. " Mustang replied and nodded his dismissal. "Stay close to Falman and Breda. OK?"

"Sure." Ed said and got up. He had a long night ahead of him. What the hell had he gotten himself into? He got up and before he left the tent he looked over his shoulder to see Mustang rubbing his hands over his eyes and through his hair, almost like he wished he could squeeze his own brains out. Breda's words came back to him and he realized that the powerful Flame Alchemist was incapable of saving his friends. Just like he was incapable of saving one little girl. He continued to the tent flap and put his hand on it, pausing because he honestly didn't want to go back to dealing with people just yet.

"Ed?"

The teenager turned to see Mustang with his hands clasped, dark eyes reflecting the flickering light from the lantern on his desk. Ed swallowed hard, the man's drastic changes in moods unsettled damned near everyone. "Yes?"

"There is another famous General who said, 'The object of war is not to die for your country...but to make the other bastard die for his.'"(2) Roy said and saw the fear in Ed's golden eyes that his next words were going to tell him to compromise everything and start killing. "You stay alive and let me do my job, which is making sure you get home. That's an order."

Ed wanted to ask, 'At what price' but he could see that the Colonel already felt he was damned. He nodded and left to digest that and went back to where the rest of the team was sitting. He knew better than to stray too far from home, there was no need to keep him on a leash, so he sat down beside Breda and tried to listen instead of think. The rest of the team was still adjusting to life on the front lines, this was their first war too. It was hard to remember that, because they were so much better at not letting things get to them. They were soldiers and he was just a damned kid.

"Hey big guy, you should eat something." Breda gave Ed a nudge and could see on his face that he wasn't going to be eating for a while. Not after today. What was wrong with this world where they could put a kid in uniform and send him to war?

Falman was struggling to come up with something to say. Part of their solution to this hell was to not sit around talking about it. Once the battle was over, you busied yourself with anything and everything to avoid thinking about what you just did or saw. Ed shouldn't be here. He didn't know what he was getting himself into, not that any of them did, but Ed was just a kid! "Hey Ed, I bet Fuery can get a line patched through to Al if you want to let him know you're safe. Oh and Winry too. I'm sure she wants to know you didn't break your automail."

"What do I tell them? That I'm Ok? I'm not." Ed sucked in a deep breath. What was he going to say to them? Everyone was trying to be nice, but he knew he didn't fit in here. Mustang had no idea what to say and just rambled on about his life's purpose and offered him a drink. Now Breda and Falman were trying to cheer him up when they probably wanted to be anywhere but here; here talking to some damned boy who was so naive he signed up for the military thinking they wouldn't ask him to kill. Now they were dwelling on it and it was depressing everyone. He was just glad Havoc wasn't here offering him a cigarette, but Breda's Spam sandwich was almost worse. He really wished Hawkeye and Havoc were here, they were always the ones who had been there for him in the past without patronizing him. Always with a comforting smile and even more comforting honest words of truth and reason. However, they were both in Central, already victims of this nightmare. One facing a loss of life, the other loss of limbs. He swallowed hard and shut his eyes. Dammit. No. He wasn't going to draw a comparison to Mustang.

"Tell Al you're alive." Breda said and squeezed his shoulder. Ed looked sick and he hoped a phone call home would help distract him for just a few minutes. He needed to cling to hope before it slipped from his grasp.

"I should make sure Al is Ok." Ed nodded and stood up as he found something he could focus on. His brother, now a hostage. Al thought he was keeping that little girl Elena company and protecting her, he had no idea he was being kept a prisoner along with her. They were at the Armstrong estate, Major Armstrong had said it would be the best place to watch over them and protect them from harm. Even he didn't know what was really going on. No...he did. Armstrong fell apart in Ishval after being asked to destroy. If a man like him could break down, how did he even stand a chance?

"Major Elric!"

Ed turned around as the Lieutenants jumped up to stand at attention. He looked at the General and blinked. He wouldn't have even responded if he didn't hear his last name. "Yes?"

General Harper narrowed his eyes at the young boy. He always hated that they bestowed rank upon these damned alchemists. As if their fancy titles weren't enough to grant them the awe and privilege they didn't deserve, they compounded the insult with a military rank. This one was nothing but a baby and it upset him to the very core that this _child_ was a commissioned officer. "Yes, _what_? And where is your salute, boy? Is that how you address a superior?"

Ed slowly raised his hand to a salute and swallowed hard. He had no idea about military protocol. He wasn't a soldier or a cadet, he was just an alchemist. "General, Sir."

"I need you to dig a trench. You work with earth alchemy, correct?" Harper asked.

"Yes." Ed replied, confused by the demand. The battle was over, why did they need entrenchments and earthworks?

" _Sir_." Harper said coldly. "I am your superior."

"Yes, sir." Ed hated that he fell so quickly into compliance, but the uniform he wore was making it easier. His old cloak went a long way to embodying his autonomy, this uniform helped crush that individuality with it's stifling gaberdine and starched collar. He might have been the kid who put a spear to the Fuhrer's throat, but now he was a soldier somewhere in the war torn fields of Aerugo and he couldn't be more detached from his old self than he was now.

"General, Sir!" Mustang's voice carried above the sounds of the vehicles and soldiers as he noticed the commander addressing Ed. He had to make up something quick, Harper wouldn't appreciate that he was trying to protect his subordinate. "Damage reports are still coming in, but it seems the town isn't a total loss. We can use it as a supply station to support our advance."

Harper reluctantly turned to Mustang who snapped off a smart salute. This one however, _this alchemist_ , seemed to understand that military came before his precious science. However, right now, he wasn't sure if he was trying to protect the little boy who got him his promotion to full Colonel or get possessive of his asset. "Have Elric help you with burial detail. He can dig the trench and save my men the trouble. I still want the enemy bodies burned though, keep down the disease and crush the enemy morale, see to it Colonel."

Ed felt sick again. Burial. Bodies. Burn...

Mustang watched Ed dart off and start puking behind a crate. "We'll see to it sir."

* * *

Footnotes:

(1) Robert E. Lee

(2) George S. Patton


	3. The Evil That Men Do Lives After Them

_Battle Cry_

Chapter 3

 **The Evil That Men Do Lives After Them**

* * *

"I want the truth Mustang." Ed said as they approached the field outside of town. Apparently there was a procedure in place for where to put the discarded limbs and enemy dead after a battle like this. It made sense, disease spread quickly if you didn't take care of the dead even if it reduced people to just garbage. Was it really any different than what he had done? Reduced a human life to its basic components and actually called them 'cheap'?

Roy turned and pointed to the pile of bodies down the road about a quarter of a mile. "That is truth. That is what we do."

Ed finally just unbuttoned his uniform and let it hang open. He needed to feel the breeze blow against his neck and remind him that he was still awake and alive, just living the nightmare. The uniform scratched his neck and trapped his body heat against him and made it feel like it was a dream of hell. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind, he was going to have to stop blaming this situation on everything else. The uniform was a symbol, Mustang was just doing his duty and all of this was most definitely his life right now. So it was time to stop avoiding Truth and face it head on. Unfortunately, Mustang was still vague and annoying when he was being honest. Ed really couldn't tell what they were looking at other than a few trucks backing up to a pile and throwing things out the back. "What is that?"

"They're bodies and limbs, kid. The ones who made it back partially dead and didn't make it." He watched Ed's eyes grow wide and took out his gloves. "And it's my job to incinerate them. So if you would be so kind as to just put a trench right next to it, I'd appreciate it. Just create the trench, up-heave the earth under the pile and let it all slide into it. That's all I need and you can get out of here. "

"That's from this battle?" Ed asked and found himself unable to pry his eyes away from it.

"That's the enemy dead and the amputations from the hospital. Our own dead are shipped home for a proper burial." Roy replied and watched the kid pale. Bodies and limbs, what Ed had been searching for. His own limbs and Al's body had become the driving force in their lives, the restoration of something they held dear was what they wanted from this world. Yet here outside of this little town called Prospect, the world was showing him that they didn't share the same values. If fate could be any crueler to this young man he really didn't know how.

"So there were still injuries even though the alchemists went in first? We didn't even save lives?" Ed said and put his hand on his automail arm as he thought about the amputations. He flexed his arm and felt the metal mechanism respond under his sleeve and recalled some more information that didn't impact him until now. The automail industry came into existence thanks to Ishval, the technology wouldn't have been there for him when he foolishly destroyed his own limbs if it hadn't been for war.

Roy slowly put his gloves on and realized he needed to share more with him. He was a Major and he needed to understand how things worked especially since he never had the training that he had. Ed needed to understand how things operated or else he was going to be ground up by the cogs of the machine when he tried to halt it. "We're assets. Precious weapons. They don't send us in until the town is shelled and skirmishers have an opportunity to push as many hostiles out of the town. It would only serve to get us killed faster if we lined up and marched into town where we could be picked off by snipers. There is wave of support before we are allowed to go in and once a sector is cleared that allows a buffer between us and the enemy, Alchemists advance. The enemy can't push back without putting themselves in our path."

"These are tactics you learned in the academy?" Ed asked and saw Mustang look down at his gloved hands before answering. He wondered how much advance notice the man had that he would be used like this.

"No. It was a tactic developed in Ishval by Basque Grand. One of the reasons he was promoted to General after the war and how he took command of the Alchemist unit in Ishval. Iron Blood Alchemist, he was a master of physical, alchemical and tactical warfare. He was the ultimate soldier." Roy replied. "Most of the tactics I learned in the academy were obsolete, meant for battle in the days of muzzle loaders and cavalry. The formations were for less accurate weapons and the maneuvers for waging war in an open field with honor. A lot of men died purely because our officers were too nostalgic to admit that there was a new era of warfare thanks to technology and alchemy. Ishval was a testing ground and we learned how to be more efficient in war. Grand wasn't an evil man, he was a man who believed in honor and his country. He lead from the front and developed tactics that were meant to make each hit to the enemy harder and expose our people to less chances of injury. Grand is dead though, his intentions and convictions meant nothing to a victim of his methods. History will forever be written by the victor."

"So what do we do then, if we're not even protecting our people from harm?" Ed asked even though he really didn't need to hear the answer. Destroy. That was the sole objective. They weren't alchemists, they were _State_ Alchemists, and that meant they were the military dogs. Equivalent exchange, after all, he had to give them something for the watch and title they game him. He just didn't comprehend what his service meant until now; they gave him power and he gave them his. _You naive fool._

"Come on, time to show you exactly what it is we do. The glorious job of the State Alchemists. " Roy said dryly. "We're all just dogs, Ed, hunting and burying our kill. We follow orders."

"These were people." Ed said softly. "We destroyed their homes and took their lives."

"There is no 'we' Fullmetal." Roy finally added an authoritative snap to his voice. "You have not done anything."

"I haven't done anything...to stop it." Ed said.

"Just dig the trench and go back to camp." Roy said as they got closer to the location and huffed. He was going to end up losing Ed, he could feel it. Just as he lost a part of himself in Ishval, Ed would bury a part of himself here in Aerugo. "Can't you obey a single order?"

"How does this really demoralize the enemy?" Ed said sadly as he thought about the families returning to look for what they lost or left behind. Families who would never be able to have closure because they couldn't even have a body of a loved one to bury. People who did nothing wrong but get in the way of an army and likely had no reason to hate Amestrians until now.

"Every action is more complex than that. Warfare is an art, refined and and improved upon in anticipation of the next conflict. On the surface this order is for disease management and an attempt to strike at enemy morale. However, there is much more to it. We're obliterating the remains of these people, removing their existence from this Earth and rendering them down to nothing but ash. We are erasing them. Even those who escaped will find nothing here that they can call home when we do move on; not their dead, not their homes, nothing but barren landscape and debris of what used to be their lives. In having to rebuild from scratch they can no longer be a viable option for supporting their own army. We strike them down with our first assault, and this keeps them from striking back." Roy answered honestly.

"This...is what happened in Ishval?" Ed gasped. Now he understood Scar's burning resentment. It went so much further than just revenge.

"Scorched Earth Strategem." Roy said softly. "That would be something that is in the military books and has been utilized since the dawn of warfare and will never become obsolete. As we advance, you will see the enemy put it into use and destroy their own country in an attempt to hamper us and deny us any benefits we could reap from what their land. Rations will get scarcer. Water poisoned. Bridges burned. Whatever they can do to halt us. This will probably be the last town you see lived in, they will not make this mistake again."

Ed had read so many books, yet he almost couldn't fathom this legacy of hell being passed down through print. There was scientific method in it, the theories had been tested and improved upon. How could you so casually discuss how to destroy people and their way of life? Was there a completely detachment from reality when they schooled cadets in this? At what point do you simply agree to stop being human and treat people in the most inhuman way possible in order to win?

"It also hides our atrocities, erases them with these people." Roy continued. He knew the journey he was going to travel all too well and he wanted to at least prepare him for it. He wanted to believe that Ed was stronger than him. "We can only rely on our memories now to reveal the truth and if you look too long at them...you'll destroy yourself from the inside. We take everything this town has to offer...including regret. When we march through here again to return home, there will be nothing but ruins and weeds. Your mind will process this day as a nightmare because your eyes see a ghost town. The memories and the evidence will be buried and the denial becomes addictive."

"Ghosts haunt you though." Ed said and saw a sadness in Mustang's eyes that he didn't try to hide. He asked for Truth and he was getting it and he was glad. The last thing he wanted was Mustang trying to protect him from the truth like when Hughes died.

"That they do." Roy chose to continue explaining what he was going to be doing, because he knew Ed needed to know. He was here as a soldier and officer without any training and that put him in danger. So he would have Breda coach him on tactics and procedure, perhaps that would give him something to keep his mind occupied. He raised a gloved hand and pointed to the spot where a small stick and strip of cloth designated the placement of the trench required. "This is where I need you to dig. The trench will allow me to increase the temperature of my flames, the clay will harden and insulate, the bodies and clothing will be the fuel and the location has been chosen by engineers to provide the air circulation need to keep the fire stoked. Once started it will keep burning until everything is gone."

Ed nodded. They just needed to do the act and walk away. Each person played a small part so that no one individual carried the complete burden on their soldiers, that was the secret. He was just digging a trench and shifting the ground so bodies could be disposed of before they became a disease issue. Mustang was simply starting the funeral pyre, then he would go back to filling paperwork. The engineers surveyed a place downwind of camp and away from the water supply to properly dispose of bio-hazard material. Those soldiers were merely cleaning up the hospital grounds or the town and preventing animals and the god awful smell from becoming a problem. Somehow, at the end of the day, you could file it away as part of your job for the greater good.

He looked up at Mustang who just looked exhausted. He had already forgotten the huge role the man played in today's battle and how mentally and physically drained he had to be from the constant use of his alchemy. This last order was probably all he had in him before he was completely depleted of energy, otherwise he would have just handled this himself. Sure he was the Flame alchemist, but he was still an alchemist and with a little time and a transmutation circle he could have done the deed himself. Alchemy on the scale that it was used today, was taxing and likely stressing his system. Ed, however, had yet to perform a single transmutation.

How ironic. He always looked to alchemy as the first option to anything. He _thought_ in alchemy, he was always aware of his environment for that expressed purpose. Today, however, the last thing he wanted to do was feel that pulse of energy calling to him. He was finally in a situation where alchemy would never be his answer.

He knelt down and put his hands on the ground, this dirt that they were fighting over. He thought that it should feel different, that somehow this southern clay would be more valuable and powerful because so many had bled over it today. It however was indifferent, silent and slightly damp and he felt a shiver go through him as he remembered the last grave he had dug. _Mom..._

He froze as he wondered if he was already guilt of trying to hide his actions. He had buried a body and burned a home to erase evidence of his mistake and moved on. The remains of his home stood amongst the overgrown grass and weeds, the grave of that _thing_ he made not far from it. Maybe it wasn't a learned response after all, maybe humans really couldn't look at the horrible things they did and try to bury them like a dog with a bone.

Ed heard Mustang's boots shuffle on the bit of gravel on the road, the man would have to resort to ordering him to do this soon if he didn't stop avoiding it. He sat back on his heels and clapped, the warm energy began to pulsate around him as he focused on where he was going to need to put the displaced dirt to allow it to insulate the furnace Mustang would create. He concentrated on the movement of dirt as he placed his palms on the soil, and not the bodies that were being tipped into the mass grave.

* * *

Ed stared at his notebook and remembered the days when he enthusiastically scribbled alchemy notes down on it's blank pages. Theories, equations and chemical formulas filled every page and space in the front half of the book, including the ingredients to make a human. Humans were made on the cheap, after all, with ingredients a mere kid could buy at the general store.

He sat in his tent, the tent he was sharing with Kimblee and Mustang, and stared at his notebook as Kimblee hummed a happy tune. The Crimson Alchemist was odd. He was a vision of insanity when he was out on the battlefield, laughing and blowing up people people like it was some kind of party, however he returned to his usual philosophical self when he was in camp. He liked talking and Ed was to the point where the last thing he wanted to do was talk or think today. Thankfully the tent flap opened and Mustang entered, sopping wet from the deluge that let loose on them hours earlier preventing him from destroying the enemy remains.

"The Soggy Match returns." Kimblee muttered and kept reading his book, not bothering to stand up and salute the superior officer like he should have.

Mustang rolled his eyes and tried to peel off the wet trench coat without looking like he was chilled to the bone and miserable. Unfortunately he couldn't pull it off as he just was too tired to pretend anymore. They shared a tent, as was protocol on campaign, but he was doing his damnedest to try to find a spare tent to give Kimblee his own quarters. He didn't like watching his every word and move knowing there was a spy in the next cot and he didn't want to leave Ed to stew in his thoughts. "Wish I was glad you missed me."

"Ha!" Kimblee sang and looked over at the kid in the corner. "I don't know what I would do without the enthralling conversation, right Ed?"

Ed just pulled the blanket around himself tighter and ignored him. Once upon a time he would have gladly bantered with him, but the battle had quickly drained him of his arrogance and desire to debate. He just stared at the unopened letter that came from Al, the page in his notebook or his bed. If there was a way to describe was he felt, it would be numb...or maybe catatonic. He wished he could blame it on exhaustion.

Mustang was glad most of the tents were equipped with a small stove. He shook out his wet hair and went over to the stove to start drying it off as he attempted to wiggle out of his soaked uniform jacket.

"Reminds me of Ishval." Kimblee grinned. "Not the rain, but the shared tents. How they used to put us alchemists together so we didn't have to interact with the common soldier. Soldiers that we were just spooked by what we could do."

"There you go again." Mustang dropped his jacket and made sure to make a show of taking his pistol out and checking it to make sure it didn't get wet. "Reminding me of why I should have put you in the brig instead of with us."

"And let those rumors fly about how you're letting Fullmetal sit on your lap at night?" Kimblee chuckled. "We all know how much you love blonds."

"Or maybe put you in the ground with the rest of the bodies during burial detail." Mustang mumbled.

Ed ignored them. He heard those rumors, the giggles from the men as he passed. Why else would someone let a kid go to war? Mustang brought his little boy-toy with him. Ha...ha...ha. He wished his mind would shut down long enough for him to make childish jokes and start rumors, but it was like there was a projector constantly running film of the horrible events on the back of his skull. If he didn't force himself to not watch he'd be sucked back into to it's hypnotic, terrifying embrace. "You want to talk. Let's talk."

"The boy speaks!" Kimblee rolled over in his cot and gasped. "Well Junior, what would you like to talk about?"

"Why does it cost so much to make a human with alchemy..." Ed asked as he looked to the first page in his book. Ingredients needed to make a person, but he knew the real cost of trying to create life. How simple it all used to be when alchemy was the only answer. "Yet it's so easy to kill them without consequence?"

"What do you know about killing, kid?" Kimblee asked. "You haven't had to kill anyone yet. Don't think I haven't seen the well orchestrated maneuvers Mustang's men went through to make sure you got plucked up and moved before the fight. How he ordered you to reinforce some area that would never come under attack..."

Ed watched Mustang toss his shirt onto Kimblee's head and start to towel off. There would come a point where he couldn't avoid seeing action and then what would he do? Kill and compromise everything he stood for or die and break his promise to his brother? He didn't know what he would do, and he was scared of the choice he would make when the situation forced itself upon him. It wasn't so simple as whether or not he would take a life, but who did he want to save from dying.

"Eww." Kimblee threw the shirt off his head. "That smells like sweat and smoke. You're not my type Flame, your advances offend me."

"Good." Mustang grabbed a t-shirt and pulled it on over his head. "File sexual harassment charges and go find yourself a new tent. I don't like to see your pasty ass any more than you want to see mine."

Kimblee snorted in annoyance as Mustang sat down and took off his boots in preparation of changing his pants. "Well I've been in prison long enough to appreciate what little privacy we do have and tune out any little hums and moans from the neighbors cot."

Mustang huffed. He was getting sick of all the accusations that he was disappearing to go "comfort" Ed in any way other than as a responsible adult. Then again this was the army and they were at war, nobody had anything better to think about. He pulled off a boot and watched the water pour out of it and frowned. Why he thought getting in the trenches would give him a better chance at starting a fire was beyond him. Water just made him do stupid shit and he wished Riza was here to mock him for it. "Quit thinking about my subordinate like that Kimblee, or you'll find yourself sleeping outside in the rain."

"Makes it all the more savory for you doesn't it? Love being in _charge_ of your subordinates. Too bad Hawkeye couldn't make this war, at least you got the boy to dress up like her to make it worth your while." Kimblee cooed. He was wondering how long it was going to take for Mustang to get 'fired up'. He was sure the soaking wet alchemist would be already threatening him with a fresh pair of dry gloves and a puff of smoke in the damp atmosphere of the tent, instead Mustang was just threatening to kill them with the stench of his nasty wet boots. "Ugh, get those things out of here."

Roy tossed his boot across the tent and under Kimblee's cot. The man threw his book down and felt under his cot for it, clearly upset by the rather wretch smell coming from them. He tossed his second boot right at his back and the other alchemist screamed. For the first time in months he finally cracked a smile.

"You sick bastard!" Kimblee shivered and grabbed a stick of firewood to pick up the first boot and put it back on Mustang's side.

Ed wondered how these two grown men found the desire to act immature and human. Perhaps that was the secret he wasn't understanding; how to pretend it wasn't really happening and was just some horrible camping trip with a creepy ex-con and a bastard who liked to barbecue. He wrote that down in his journal. That was something he could tell Al, that was something that sounded like the old him.

Roy pulled off his socks and freed his pruned feet from the painful and soggy knit tubes. He cautiously unbuckled his gun belt and sat it on his cot before dropping his pants and finding some other uniform pants to put on. He learned during his first tour to just sleep in your clothes, you never knew when you were going to have to get up at a moment's notice and things were no different now that he was a Colonel. Kimblee was occupied and didn't cause any more problems. "Ed, to answer your question...taking a life still comes with a heavy price. It's just more internal than physical."

"Oh good." Kimblee snorted. "Let's cry over the _horrible_ injustice that is _doing_ the job you signed up for! You do have a type, Mustang."

Ed closed his notebook. Perhaps thinking and talking wasn't so bad after all. He was finally interested, and distracted, by what the two other alchemists were going to debate about. Kimblee made sense, sometimes, and now this human side of Mustang intrigued him. Discussing matters will help him feel human again and he really wasn't so eager to go to sleep. There was so much more fuel for his nightmares now, he really wanted to be too worn out to dream.

"Oh my God, I need to take a shower." Kimblee coughed and jumped out of his cot. "Your boots...are vile. Weapons of mass distraction. Ugh."

Roy watched him leave the tent without a change of clothes and smiled. He turned to Ed who he thought might be enjoying the childish display between the two alchemists but instead the kid was just staring back at him, golden eyes hazed in lack of desire to really focus. He missed the arrogant, passionate little pain in the ass who destroyed his quarterly budget and gave him migraines. He saw an unopened letter on Ed's bed and said, "Don't you want to open it?"

Ed glanced at the letter and answered honestly. "I read Al's letters now and I see...my little brother clueless about his real position as a hostage. He tried to keep things optimistic and off the topic of the war and tells me about how he's entertaining Elena at the Armstrong's place. How Catherine thinks he's big and strong like her brother. How Hayate is digging up the Armstrong's back yard and the names of all the Armstrong's cats."

"Al's quite the lady's man." Roy had to smile at the thought of the younger Elric having a posse of girls waiting for the promised day when he got his body back.

"Yeah." Ed said without amusement. He would be teasing him about that if he was here. Al, always the mature one, would tell them he wasn't interested in dating considering he wasn't able to devote his entire self to the relationship. He should have smiled as he thought about how his brother would respond with a joke about his condition, but he couldn't. It made him miss him more. It made him realize that Al's voice was in his head now, not beside him. "I know he's not safe and I can't tell him. So it's not that I don't want to open it, I just can't really deal with that right now."

"I understand." Roy wiggled his toes and flopped back down on the cot.

Ed picked up the letter and looked at his brother's hand writing on the front. He was going to have to figure out a way to get a message to him. He was sure his letter would be scrutinized by the censors and any phone calls would be recorded, so how did he get a message to Al that wouldn't be detected? Al was more than aware of the situation surrounding the assassination and Prince Claudio visit and he was most likely doing his own research back in Central. He had all their notes and a lot of time on his hands since he didn't sleep. He could stumble into something if he wasn't prepared for how far up the chain of command this went. Ed's hand shook as he thought about Hughes and how that had been his end. "How do I get a message to Al? How do I warn him?"

Roy sat up and sighed. "It's a risk to try and get the information through and then you risk him acting on the information. You don't expect your brother to sit idle and not try to help, do you?"

"Shit." Ed said and let the letter fall from his hand. Al was probably better off not knowing.

"That being said, perhaps you should read your letter." Roy watched those eyes flicker up to him, those eyes suddenly a little less hazy. "Because the Armstrongs don't have cats."

* * *

 **AN:** Chapter Title from _Julius Caesar_

Thank you so much for the follows/favs/reviews. I can't tell you how much it means to me. :) Thank You!

This AU is a timeline divergence prior to Mustang's team being split up so Ed hasn't talked with Hawkeye about Ishval yet. I like to make things as messy as possible when doing an AU so that I hate myself later.


	4. Our Wills and Fates Do Contrary Run

_Battle Cry_

Chapter 4

 **Our Wills and Fates Do Contrary Run**

* * *

 _The place was familiar to him even though it was enveloped in darkness and his eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the lack of light. There was a feel to it that was unmistakable, ominous yet comforting in it's familiarity. He felt the worn floorboards beneath his bare feet and knew his way down the hallway, around the corner and to the room emitting a soft glow. It was reassuring, it was home, and Ed wanted to believe that this time when he made it to the study there would be a different result than every other time he had this dream._

 _Every time he had the dream he went to the light, back to the room where everything had gone wrong. He couldn't stop himself, no more than anyone could have stopped that younger version of him from committing that taboo. He wanted a different result from this dream and his past, just like he expected a different result from human transmutation than any other alchemist had managed. It was with that same feeling of hope and pride that he marched into that study and felt it drain away as he saw the circle on the ground. The edges of the room were pitch black, an empty void that just sucked away any optimism or bravery he had._

 _The chalk outline began to glow as he fully committed to standing in the room. The warmth was gone and he could see his breath fog in front of him. Warmth meant love and safety, the cold was the chill of loneliness and failure. Ed wanted to turn away, he wanted to scream that he was sorry for his naivety. His mouth opened and tears began to roll down his cheeks, he was nothing but a fool for thinking this would turn out any different than it had before. He could see the edge of the chalk outline on the ground so clearly now and knew that if he took another step further he would see it again. He could hear it shuffling in the darkness, a low moan of agony from an incomplete human creation._

 _This was not a new nightmare but it was now more intense. He was scared of the movement in the darkness and panicked by the failure of the transmutation, but there was something else here. He turned slowly and checked behind him as he felt a presence. The smell of something cooking and burning wafted up from the ground as the smoke from the transmutation clouded the room. He turned back to the circle where he knew that creation was and moved towards it. He knew why this nightmare was taking a new horrible turn and he actually wanted to go back to the hell that he already knew._

 _Then he tripped. His face hit the ground and a puff of chalk hit him in the face. He rubbed his eyes and looked up at the face of that horrendous creature. It's head was upside down, mouth agape and eye sockets hollow...an arm was sticking out of it's chest. Suddenly the stink enveloped him, the smell of burned flesh and hair and he screamed as the eye sockets crackled and ooze dribbled out of them. He tried to pull back but he flipped over instead and rolled onto that charred Aerugian soldier._

 _This time the man was still alive. His mouth was open but his tongue was burned and liquified, his whole mouth was sloughing off skin. Teeth fell from his gums and into his throat to choke back the gurgles of a scream he couldn't vocalize. Then the creature in the circle hovered over him and a pitiful voice said, "Why?"_

Ed shot up in bed, completely soaked in sweat. He shook as he looked around the empty tent and tried to calm himself from the nightmare. He threw off the blanket, pulled his legs to his chest and set his head on his knees, desperately trying to slow his heart rate and get himself under control. Waking up like this wasn't uncommon, but he was now worried about what his bunkmates would think when they were present for it. It was bad enough when Al saw him wake up like this, but that was his brother.

Ed sat up straight and rubbed his eyes so he could look around at the tent. He could hear the camp coming to life beyond the tent walls, a bugle sounded in the distance and there was a clank of cups as someone distributed coffee outside. He relaxed and looked at the empty beds. Kimblee's was still undisturbed from when he left last night and Mustang's was made. He pulled the tie from his hair and unbraided it so he could brush it.

Then he froze when he realized he had fallen asleep last night while going through Al's letters. He looked around his bed slowly, there was no sign of them. He ran his hand through his hair and yanked on it, painfully tugging on the roots to punish himself for leaving such material out for anyone to find. He looked down at his rucksack which was propped up against Mustang's cot and he stared at it. Nothing was how he left it. If he fell asleep decoding letters he wouldn't have a blanket on when he woke and his bag would have been on the floor with clothes everywhere like he left it last night.

He leaned over and grabbed the bag and opened it, the letters were neatly stacked and tied with the string again and his notebook was nestled between some shirts. He looked up at Mustang's bed and sighed. The bastard had cleaned up after him and tossed a blanket on him after he fell asleep. It was really getting hard to stay mad at the guy.

Ed pulled out his hair brush and ran it through his hair as he thought about the letters again. He couldn't believe he had been so blind and foolish to think Al would just play it safe without him and be oblivious to the danger he was in. He grabbed his notebook and set it on his lap so he could look it over as he brushed his hair and rebraided it. He felt his heart pound with excitement now, beating life back into his body as he realized that there was hope still. Of course he would use the cats as code, anyone who knew Al would dismiss it as simply his personal obsession with felines and not a secret message to his brother.

Unfortunately there was also a lot he couldn't make sense of. In addition to the cat names, Al talked about restaurants and places he wanted to eat when he got his body back. He knew that it was code now, he just had no idea what he was working with. The bugle sounded again and he knew he would have to get up and at least make it seem like he was trying to be a soldier. He changed and found his uniform jacket, gunbelt and boots and tried to compose himself to be a functioning adult today.

He sighed and looked at his automail arm and remembered when he thought taking charge of his life and Al's was all that was needed to fill the need of an adult in their life. What had adults done for them but leave them? He was going to do the job better and prove that he didn't need them anyway. He didn't need his damned father who walked out on them and he was going to save their mother from death when adults couldn't help save her. He was ready to take on the world and in his mind he wasn't a kid anymore.

Yesterday he was overcome with it all and realized that there was so much more to taking care of himself and Al, that there was a very heavy and almost debilitating weight of responsibility he had accepted when he chose to bypass his childhood. As the arrogance and fury ebbed, he was just a damned kid underneath it all. At fifteen he had seen so much already, but the cruelty of nature was nothing when compared to the mercilessness of man. He felt it immediately when he put on his uniform jacket this morning and wished he didn't resent an inanimate object so much.

Ed finished dressing and grabbed the notebook before heading out of the tent and into the world again. He had to quit dwelling on his predicament and his past, there was going to be no way to get out of this without doing so. To constantly look behind you meant you were never looking forward and there were too many people in his life counting on him to move forward. He found his way to the rekindled campfire and sat down to try to make sense of Al's message and quit living in yesterday. Staring at the fire helped him remember that and he pulled out his watch and clicked it open.

 _Don't Forget 3-OCT-11_

No, he wasn't going to forget that day. There was nowhere else to go but forward and this journey was far from over. He snapped it shut as he saw Lieutenant Breda coming over to greet him.

"Hey, Chief." Breda set the coffee cup and oatmeal down in front of Ed and then sat down. He shoved a roll in his mouth and munched loudly before looking over his list of topics for discussion that he had in his pocket. Once he was certain he wouldn't spit crumbs in Ed's face he started talking. "So the Colonel asked me to give you a crash course on being an officer since you missed out on the academy."

"Where is he?" Ed asked.

"Meeting." Breda sat down and swallowed the last of the roll. "He and Kimblee are arguing their points on where to march next and when."

"I didn't think they had that kind of pull." Ed replied.

"Most alchemists don't, but Kimblee and Mustang are a different breed. They've both got a head for strategy and warfare." Breda slurped his coffee. "The General is pretty happy about that."

"I can imagine." Ed said and put his notebook on his lap and reached for 'breakfast'. He pulled the spoon out of the off white sticky slop that he could only identify as glue. "Are we using this to put up posters or patch holes in the tents?"

Breda chuckled. "Use it to fend off starvation. That's oatmeal."

"Did they throw in the entire box with it?" Ed sniffed at it and it didn't have a scent at all.

"Did you ever read the 'Art of War' book I gave to you after your alchemy fight with Mustang?" Breda asked. Ed had been so bent out of shape from the loss that he wanted to read up on whatever book Mustang's quotes came from. He wanted a rematch and to ensure the victory was as sweet as possible, he wanted to rub the Colonel's face in all the quotes he used.

"Yeah, but that was more like poetry than a manual of death." Ed mumbled and handed Breda his cup with oatmeal in it.

"True, but it's memorable and digestible." Breda pulled the semi-solid oatmeal off the spoon with his teeth.

"Unlike that oatmeal."Ed mumbled and remembered that Breda was trying to tell him something yesterday before Kimblee interrupted: Mustang lost too many people already, people who were well trained and capable. As Breda savored the tasteless breakfast, Ed noticed the Lieutenant had lost some weight since this campaign began. It made sense, they were on rations and he was notorious for snacking all day long. Still, there was something more to the leaner Breda and Ed guessed to was because he left someone important behind too. _Havoc_. Then he thumbed his notebook and recalled the elements in Al's notes that he couldn't figure out. "Lieutenant?"

"Mmmm?" Breda continued to suck the oatmeal off the spoon and looked over at Ed as he placed a notebook on his lap.

"Al's been visiting Lieutenant Havoc in the hospital and I was wondering if you two ever had some code that he might suggest using to get information to us." Ed said and watched Breda's face light up when he heard Havoc's name. They had been best friends since the academy, much like Mustang and Hughes.

Breda grinned as he saw a list of restaurants, street vendors and food items. "No, but it looks like we have one now."

Ed sat up straight and handed him a pencil. "Can you help me decode it? I understand Al's system but this isn't something I think I'm meant to understand."

 _Thanks Jean._ "Well let's put off your officer's training until later then, this is more important. These are places we used to go to on weekends when we were in the academy. Havoc was a country boy who was raised on home cooked meals and he hadn't had much in the way of flavorful entrees. I love Mrs. Havoc like a second Mom, but she never spent a dime on spices in her life. Bland but hearty."

Ed smiled. He missed home cooking, but traveling afforded him the opportunity to try different cuisines and he understood that statement pretty well. "Prepares you for the army I guess."

"Not unless you were slopped with the pigs." Breda snorted and began to circle and underline letters as he tried to find a code within the names listed.

"I think Al is still working on finding out what happened during the Prince's visit. Can you tell me what happened during the inquest?" Ed asked and Breda looked at him surprised. "The Central Times covered it...but I don't want second hand biased reports."

"Ed, what happened during the military trials was nothing factual, it was just an elaborate effort to appease the public, railroad Hawkeye and start a war. You're right, what the paper printed was sensationalized bullshit, but it still had the stamp of approval from the military. Not much is printed in the paper that will lead people to question the government."

"I'd still like to hear what went on, even if it wasn't a real trial and was more of a dictation of events." Ed said and decided to explain himself. "Part of deconstructing and reconstructing the process requires that I have every bit of knowledge available. When I was looking for leads in Central with Al, I swear someone was always a step ahead of us to erase the information we needed. If I knew what was being said, what was being used against the Colonel, then I have to treat that as an element that was part of the reaction that caused us to be here."

"The absence of evidence is evidence." Breda nodded. "I agree with you about the trial against Mustang, whatever was said was what the military wanted to be written down as history. So that is our motive, that is the end that justified the means and is probably the exact opposite of what actually happened."

"So what really happened?" Ed asked.

Breda sighed. "Let's work on this and then when the Colonel gets back we'll bring him in on it. I think you need to hear his side too."

"He's not big on sharing." Ed huffed.

"That's going to have to change because you are technically his second in command." Breda said and watched Ed's eyes grow wide.

* * *

"You've been busy." Mustang sat on his cot and looked over the notes that Breda and Ed had been making all day while he was stuck arguing with Kimblee over the direction the army should take. Kimblee was pushing to have the alchemists move out immediately and pursue the enemy, striking at them before they could flee. He was transparent, all he was trying to do was avoid losing his prey when the enemy retreated in advance of the main army's approach. The rest of the officers just sat back in amazement, they were not expecting the alchemists to be able to do anything but sit and take orders.

"Falman was able to recite every bit of evidence that was presented at trial and I could at least share my skepticism about the testimony that had been provided..." Breda gave a smile as Mustang's eyes flashed up at him.

"Be careful." Roy warned.

Breda knew he wasn't warning him to not speak ill of the military's justice system, but because the search for truth had cost him too many people already. "Just Ed and I discussing the procedures and policies of the military...like you asked, sir."

Roy gave him a smirk and went back to reading Ed's notes. "Keep up the good work, Lieutenant."

Ed watched the Colonel's eyes scan the time line and information they had compiled. It felt good to work and research, it kept his mind completely occupied and helped him feel like he was still capable. "Al's letters confirm that Prince Claudio is not the _real_ Prince. That's fact from the guy's own sister."

"That's really the only information we need to concern ourselves with right now." Roy said and looked over to Ed. "Is Al really looking for the impostor even though he's supposed to be under Armstrong's supervision?"

"Well he's being careful." Breda said. "Al visits Havoc when Catherine Armstrong goes to visit him. They're aware they are being watched."

Roy smiled, this was good news. That date he set up was really coming in handy now! "OK, tell me what you have put together. Let's see if we can't fill in all the gaps and see if we can't provide them with information they need. Remember, everyone who was part of that trial is here or in jail."

"As far away from the scene of the crime as we can get." Breda said and noted Mustang's nod. "Plus our team has been broken up. Sure half of us are here, but our minds are still back in Central with Havoc, Hawkeye and Al. Sir, you're away from all your contacts. Ed is now contained and no longer roaming the country."

"Divide and conquer." Roy said simply. "We were getting in someone's way."

"See that's what has been bothering me since this all began." Ed said. "When we were investigating, every lead we followed lead us to a dead end. It's not like our quest to find the philosopher's stone, this was a crime in a highly populated area and there is no way an attack like this left no evidence behind."

"Ed, the military scoured the area and collected the evidence." Roy said and watched Ed's eyes. The kid needed this, he needed to have somewhere else he could be when he closed his eyes or turned them away from the battlefield. He had seen how easily he could be lost in his research and he had also seen how easily he was lost in his nightmares when he woke him this morning. He was going to be too busy with the war and trying to counter Kimblee's move while protecting Ed, that he needed them to make sense of all this for him.

"I want to reconstruct the entire visit and see what we missed." Ed said and

"Very well." Roy said. He was reluctant to participate because so much he had been privy to was simply not appropriate to share with two officers of a lesser grade. However this was _his team_ , they knew probably the most compromising truths he had...something that had also put his people in danger. There was so much he could openly share with Hughes, the man was almost an equal in rank and also handled sensitive information daily. He'd answer what Ed asked, he really didn't need to divulge everything.

Ed's eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. Apparently the Colonel expected him to lead him along through his memories. "When were you brought in on the security detail?"

"When Claudio was already on his way to Central." Roy said and stared at the notebook on the table as he replayed the events in his mind. "The Fuhrer visited me in the hospital when Havoc and I were recovering from our battle with Lust. He informed me of the visit and that he was putting me in charge of the Prince's well being."

"Why?" Ed asked.

"When the Fuhrer gives you an order you say, 'Yes, sir' and not 'Why?'." Roy snorted.

"So you kill a homunculus and suddenly you're given this honor of being set up to take the fall for the assassination of the Prince?" Ed said. He wanted to kick himself for even bothering to ask Mustang questions before. However the Colonel was out of reach, on more than just physical accounts. Three months ago they wouldn't have been able to have this conversation.

"I wasn't." Roy replied coldly. "Hawkeye is."

"You're also going to tell me that she missed?" Ed said. " _That_ is evidence enough that she wasn't trying to kill the guy."

" _That_ is evidence that someone stopped her." Roy said and closed his eyes. "Otherwise the man would be dead and the knowledge that we have regarding his identity as a fraud would have lead to her being a free woman."

Ed could feel the silence and looked up as Mustang hung his head. "You...stopped her from killing the Prince?"

"Well technically your orders were to protect the Prince." Breda said and watched their always collected Colonel finally rub his eyes and give a heavy sigh.

"The real Prince is probably dead if there was an impostor." Roy mumbled. "We don't have much of a chance of proving Hawkeye innocent because in doing so...we show a vulnerability in our military. We didn't do our research, we had no idea the guy was a fake and suddenly we allow him into Central and roll out the red carpet for his terrorist organization. That makes the Fuhrer look like a fool. Finding this man, whoever he is, will only lead to more people being silenced."

"Good thing I like pointing out flaws in the Fuhrer's security protocol." Ed said with a smile and felt it fade from his face when Mustang didn't even react.

Breda tapped his finger on the notepad. "Claudio worked with Ishvalian extremists and mercenaries during the war. That narrows down the location of his contacts. He wouldn't have escaped South where the armies were on a temporary case-fire thanks to the peace talks. He would have gone East and slipped across the border through there. "

"East City." Roy ran his finger down the notepad and took in the notations and code they had worked on. "Al's not using Miss Rockbell to get information to them is he?"

"No, Havoc is passing information to East City through Lieutenant Catalina." Breda replied.

Roy head shot up. "Catalina? Are you sure?"

Ed wasn't expecting that kind of reaction. "Yeah, Al talked about going to some street vendor on Market Street called Sizzlin Chicken. Apparently they're known for their chicken skewers marinated in Catalina dressing."

"It's a sure thing." Breda felt his mouth begin to water. "That place is one of a kind."

Ed wasn't sure why this lead to Mustang slapping the notebook down on the cot in frustration. "What's wrong?"

"We have a new addition to our team." Roy said and stuffed the message into his pocket. "Since we are down two snipers thanks to Havoc's injury and Hawkeye's incarceration, the Fuhrer has decided to send us a replacement."

Ed raised an eyebrow. This was a weird change of topic.

"Lieutenant Catalina will be joining us before the next battle." Roy said and saw Breda stiffen. It was too coincidental to not assume someone caught on to their team's work back in the capital. "Do whatever it takes to get a message to Al and tell him they have been compromised."

* * *

 **AN:** Chapter title from Hamlet

I really wanted to have this chapter up for FMA Day but life got in the way Sorry for the long wait, I decided to add more to the story and it took a little longer than expected. Don't worry, the slow reveal on the assassination plot is intentional. Thank you for reading and the reviews.


	5. Once More Unto The Breach, Dear Friends,

_Battle Cry_

Chapter 5

 **Once More Unto The Breach, Dear Friends, Once More**

* * *

Xxxxxxxxxxx

 _Town of Vertigris_

 _Aerugo 1914_

Xxxxxxxxx

Ed stared at his state alchemist pocket watch as the second hand crept around the circle and he wondered how something so measurable and definitive as time was beginning to slip through his fingers. As an alchemist it was important to appreciate measurements and specifics, so as the hand completed it's travel and reached the top of the face again, he wondered how the hell he had allowed himself to lose sight of the present and future again.

The truck they were in hit another rut in the road and the watch popped up in his hand and landed back in his palm thanks to him winding the chain between his fingers. The watch; symbolic of his status, symbolic of his values and symbolic of the chain that was wound so tightly around him that he could barely breathe at times. He was the owner of this watch and not a slave to it, however as he clicked it closed he looked at the crest of Amestris and wondered if that was still true.

He was used to racing against time as he tried to put Al back in his body and now he was fighting time as it dragged him forward, away from the answers he wanted back in Central. He had come to accept that as the truth now, especially since he allowed himself to become absorbed in his obsession as a avoidance mechanism. Perhaps it was some kind of rite of passage, how he slowly came to terms with the fact that he wasn't that proud kid with a pocket watch anymore but a lousy soldier whose hands were bound by it's silver chain. It felt heavy now though, as they drove toward the latest patch of ground that was worth bloodshed, the choking sensation as he was dragged along by the chain leash.

The truck hit something else and popped everyone around, Mustang's elbow smacked his arm and he muttered an apology then went back to briefing the team. Ed had already heard it all back in camp as Mustang had tried his best to respect the chain of command by relaying the information to his Major first. It cost him precious time, so he was forced to hold his war council in this truck on the way to the front as their artillery corps unleashed a barrage on the approaching enemy. Ed put his head against the window and zoned out again, needing to collect his thoughts and find his focus on the path ahead before found himself face first in it again.

Two weeks ago, after the incident with Al's letters, Mustang shut down any other attempts to get at the truth in regards to the Claudio assassination attempt. The Colonel had stood over him in the communications tent as Fuery got a line through to Armstrong in Central command to pass along a message to Al to make sure he didn't get carried away. All he asked the Major to tell Al was that they'd be moving out soon so this might be his last chance to get a communication though. _Thanks for the letters, I'm safe. Make sure you stay out of trouble with those cats, the Armstrongs don't need strays running around their yard and might kick you to the curb._

He heard a grunt from Armstrong before he went on a rant about brotherly love and how he'd never think of letting Al's kind heart get him in trouble. Mustang had tapped Fuery on the shoulder and gave the signal to end the communication and that had been the _end_ of all communication about the happenings in Central. That night he argued with Mustang about it and the man ordered him to cease and desist. He was too far away to do anything. It wasn't his problem. That fucking bastard just didn't understand how much he needed to feel like his old self, he thrived on that kind of danger. Or maybe he did, maybe that was what was scaring him.

Any attempts to discuss matters with the rest of the team hit a brick wall. They looked at him with sorry eyes and simple, 'Sorry Ed, orders.' and once again he was alone in his bed trying to make sense of it all. He worked on what information he gathered from the team before Mustang decided to become over-protective. As aggravated as he had been with the Colonel about it he understood the order. It didn't stop him from hitting the guy with a low blow, _"I guess I should have seen how little you cared about the truth back when you killed Maria Ross. That wasn't a fair trial either."_ It was filled with venom and backed with months of frustration, but he saw a flicker of something in those dark eyes before fury could erase it. Something painful, something that reminded him of the smoke and agony of that creature in his dreams. Some personal demon haunted him too, but he quickly locked it away. After feeling the bite from his ill mannered dog, Mustang left him alone with his bone to pick it clean. So Ed gnawed on his research until he finally started to question what was fact and what was fabricated.

He kept to himself until Lieutenant Catalina arrived and was give her gag order from Mustang as soon as she got off the truck. Ed felt full of himself, he felt like he was on to something just like he was in Central and barged into Mustang's HQ tent. It was just like how they used to be, he felt his old self and demanded to know what information she had. Had it not been for Al and his cooperation with Havoc there would be no help from Central or East City. Damned asshole Colonel owed him that.

The words were harsh as Mustang whipped around and marched back over to him. He was tired of his dog yapping at him and finally snapped. Ed held his breath as the Colonel blew hot breath in his face and leaned over him. _"I owe you a safe trip home on your annoying little ass and not in a pine box. So drop it like I ordered. Learn how to take orders, for your sake and everyone else's."_

He stood there and stared at him, wanting so desperately to counter with something bold and defiant. That confidence was slipping from him now, now that even Mustang was making sure he was isolated and alone by taking the Claudio mystery from him. The Colonel must have seen it, his desperation to do _something_. He must have looked pathetic, desperately grasping at some wisp of a conspiracy just to avid dealing with his situation. Mustang's face softened and he saw the dark circles under his eyes and how his cheeks were hollowing out. The Colonel wasn't giving his foolish subordinate space by sleeping in his office, he was working himself to death. Time had continued to tick by outside the walls of their tent, Ed just chose to ignore it. There was, after all, a war going on.

" _Look Fullmetal, we're moving out soon. Scouts have reported a force marching towards us and we intend to meet them in battle. It won't be like the last skirmish, this is going to be the real thing. I need you to obey every order."_

Those words were haunting him now as the truck moved past lines of infantry and took them to their destination outside a town called Vertigris. What was the difference between 'skirmish' and 'battle'? The last two weeks became a blur in his mind as he struggled to find an answer in his research that would bring it all to a halt. Now he was here again, looking out across a field of men preparing for battle. It was then that it dawned on him that he was completely lost if he didn't stop avoiding the present. The past and future needed to fade back to the out edges of the room, as gloomy or as comforting as they may be, and the horror of the here and now needed to be all he saw. Artillery. Alchemists. Infantry. Battle.

Breda stopped the truck and everyone but Ed quickly got out. He needed a minute to focus. There was a job to be done and if he didn't stop daydreaming, stop trying to fix something that had already happened, he was going to ruin the carefully constructed plans and put someone in danger. Mustang was worn down, Kimblee had been instrumental in keeping him on edge as they both tried to manipulate the General and get their way. It was time to be a soldier. The causes of the war could wait because ignoring the war could be the cause of death of him or any one of these people he cared about.

Ed slowly slipped out of the vehicle and went around to the front of the truck where Mustang unrolled a map on the hood. The ground shook as the artillery continued to shell the town and he put his hand on the hood to brace himself. The Colonel managed to maintain his cool no matter what. He could see how soldiers straightened up as they looked at him, he was the embodiment of a good leader and inspired people with his confidence and calm. He looked like he could have easily worn that face for an afternoon walk in the park with girlfriend, it was simply incredible.

"Our main lines are going to be on this ridge. " Roy ran his finger across the map and explained the battle plans to them. "Alchemist are ordered to take the town. Kimblee is already off interpreting his orders however he pleases in the northern sectors here. I have the center here. Fullmetal, why don't you guard our left flank?"

Ed really felt like a dog of the military as his orders revolved around _heel, sit_ and _stay_. If he had been in the mood he would have cracked a joke, but for now he was going to dutifully follow in Colonel's orders. He was just glad the man was in an equally abysmal place and didn't want to be his characteristically immature Colonel Bastard self. He really couldn't believe he was sentimental about those days. "Ok."

"I expect you remain in position until I order you to move, is that understood?" Roy locked eyes with the kid and saw the indignation, but a quick nod of acceptance.

That would be the command _stay_ that he was expecting. He didn't protest or say a word as Mustang dispatched the rest of his team to positions on the rooftops and on the street. He was surprised when he felt a hand on his shoulder and Mustang was standing next to him, "What..."

"I need you to do what I tell you. It's integral to my battle plans and I do not need the team distracted by having to watch you."

"Fine." Ed felt a squeeze and watched him tug on his gloves. "You can't keep doing this you know. You can't keep protecting me and everyone. Eventually I'll have to go in there, one day you're not going to be able to shoulder this burden yourself."

"That's not today." Roy handed him the map.

Ed crunched the map in his hand. "Look Mustang..."

"Major, this is important." Roy said and handed him a radio. "Catalina and Breda are going to the rooftops and Fuery is manning the radio in the truck. Falman is ground support and will be making sure the Lieutenants are safe to work. We need you to keep track of which sectors are clear, the movements of the team and where Kimblee is at. We're going to be in the thick of it and having clear eyes out here is vital. I have you on the highest ground so you can get a clear view of the skies and you can track us. Kimblee doesn't care who gets in his way, people are a expendable and a renewable resource to him. I'm counting on you."

Ed took the radio and swallowed hard. That son of a bitch really knew how to word things right and he didn't doubt every other soldier he talked to felt like the most vital piece he had. It was what Breda had tried to drill into him, how there were leaders and then there were officers. He thought he was trying to coach him on being a better officer himself, but in reality the Lieutenant was trying to show him that Mustang was exceptional at his job. "Let me know when you want me to knock a building out from under Kimblee's feet."

Roy gave him a tired grin and slapped him on the arm. "Will do."

Ed watched him turn and disappear into the protective swarm of his team, each member focused on their commander who they would die to protect. He made his way to the designated location and wanted to kick himself for working against the Colonel from the very beginning of this. This wasn't something trivial, this was a life and death situation and he was being immature about all of it. He sat down and studied the map and listened the the radio progress. That was going to change starting now.

Per the General's orders, Kimblee and Mustang went out first and 'cleared' the town. It was like a forest fire and a volcano rolling over a simple country town at once. There were other alchemists here that had combat alchemy, but none as powerful as Crimson or Flame. He heard them talking at dinner one night, something about how Mustang was trying to keep them out of harms way but Kimblee just wanted everything for himself. He didn't need to know what went down in the war council to know that was how it played out. These other alchemists didn't interact with him, even they were spooked by his ability to do circle-less alchemy and his mastery of all of it so young.

Despite Mustang's warning things were not as bad as the first time, the Aerugian people knew what was coming and evacuated in advance of their arrival. However, the enemy was now taking up position in the abandoned homes and businesses in hopes of eliminating the alchemists and evening the odds. Rumors were circulating that there were even prices on their heads, bounties like they were criminals. The soldier who succeeded in killing one of the State Alchemists would be a hero and wealthy one at that.

So he wasn't surprised when Mustang got even more protective and had the General himself not ordered it, he probably wouldn't even be here. Right now he was trying to keep his eyes forward and pay attention to his surroundings. He had to make sure he was out of sight of any snipers but also that he could keep an eye on the alleys and roads in case ground troops advanced on his position. He memorized the layout of the small town, the locations of their reinforcements and where the members of the team would be stationed. He had to, in case someone ordered him to move his ass and get into the fight.

It was odd, despite his bitterness toward his commander's decisions he appreciated what the man was doing. He saw now that his own mistakes would put others in danger and Mustang was trying to avoid placing him in a position where he would have to make a move. He had to come to the conclusion himself, Mustang knew he was so bullheaded about everything that no other method would work. He was ashamed when he realized how long it had truly taken for him to grow up.

Soon the pyrotechnics began as flames lit up a sector to the East. Smoke began billowing up from the area and then the explosions started. Little pops and screams, to accompany the gunfire that just started up. He knew what that meant, but he also was determined to not let it distract him from his job. He kept listening, watching and waiting. Everything seemed to be consistent until the radio crackled to life beside him as Breda's voice broke the silence in his hiding spot.

" _You have eyes on him?_ " Breda's voice, more of an urgent demand than a question.

" _Negative_." The reply was from Catalina who was also watching the scene through the scope of her rifle. Ed felt his stomach churn, the team was really good at keeping track of Mustang even in the smoke and fire. He wished Hawkeye was here. They all did.

" _He's late for his date."_ Catalina's voice sounded stressed. She hadn't seen action either and now the man she was protecting was one of the top targets.

" _Might have to go check on him."_ Breda replied. It seemed like a very quick decision on his part and Ed trusted the Lieutenant a lot more now that he was studying with him. Breda was sharp and not prone to jumping to conclusions. Whatever he was seeing was urgent.

It was a communication channel Fuery said only they were tuned in to, but Catalina and Breda still tried to keep things vague even if they didn't bother with code names. Even he felt like something was off. The town was still on fire, but the smoke was just growing darker not expanding. That meant Mustang wasn't advancing. He didn't hear any huge explosions either, which was one of the man's other talents. He looked down at the map and memorized the streets he needed to take to get to the location of the black smoke, then grabbed the radio and hit the button, "I'll go."

Ed threw the radio down and jumped over the small stone wall he was hiding behind. The radio came back to life, one of the two Lieutenants yelling at him to stay put, but he didn't have to answer to them. He was the one most capable of going in there and finding the Colonel and helping him if he was hurt. Yes, that was his story and that was exactly what was going in his stupid official report.

So his legs carried him down the alley towards the smoke he saw and he reached a road. He looked around and saw a reward poster on the town's post office with his picture on it. "Wanted Dead or Alive, Fullmetal Alchemist." and a hefty sum of Aerugo currency that was more than some infantryman could make in a lifetime. He stared at the picture, something they must have taken from a copy of the Central Times as he wasn't in uniform. He was happy, smiling and cocky. "Well at least they won't recognize me now."

He heard shouting and a gunshot. Just one. Not sporadic fire or covering fire, it was a targeted shot and he felt his already racing heart leap into his throat. The adrenaline pulsed through his veins, charging into danger was something he could always do without thinking or coaxing. He ran in the direction of the smoke and gunfire, hands ready to hit the ground as soon as the assailants presented themselves. His eyes burned and lungs screamed as he voluntarily went towards the inferno, but there was no hesitation now in his steps. He could hear the enemy talking and wished he had learned Aerugian, however it confirmed that there were enemy soldiers ahead. Even if he could, he wouldn't slow down his advance. If he stopped, he might succumb to the smoke inhalation and this rescue mission would be for nothing. Hell, maybe Mustang just went a different way and this would just get him an ass chewing...

Or maybe Mustang was shot and bleeding on the ground at the feet of four heavily armed soldiers who were waving his reward poster like a captured flag.

Ed didn't even pause to think as he hit his knees and slammed his hands into the cobblestone road. Pillars of rock and earth shot up out of the ground to knock the men off their feet . Outrage at seeing one of his people on the ground injured was enough to resurrect the old him. Alchemic energy crackled around him and blue light reflected off the buildings as he pulled the stone road up to create a small barrier around Mustang's body. He jumped forward and ran over to the Colonel, gunfire from above ricocheting off the stones he was just standing on as he dove into the stone pillbox he just made.

"Damn!" He hit the side of the alchemy-created wall and slid down it, right in a pool of blood. _Mustang's blood._ He sat up quickly, his hand was on the man's back instantly and shaking him. He heard a desperate cry from his own lips hoping the man was still alive. Mustang being dead scared him more than the sound of bullets embedding in his enclosure. "Colonel!"

Ed pulled the glove off his good hand to see if the man still had a pulse. He was face down and blood was on the ground around him but Ed didn't see a wound on his back. He was scared to roll him over, scared that he'd be missing his abdomen or face and be beyond help. Scared that he was next because he just pinned himself down behind enemy lines. This time he heard the pitch of desperation in his voice and simply didn't care, "God dammit Mustang answer me!"

He leaned over Mustang's back to grab at his extended left arm so he could check for a pulse in his wrist. The man's other arm was under his body and this one was so much more accessible, even if it was further away. However as he grasped his forearm and lifted it off the ground he heard metal sliding on metal, the sound of a bolt action rifle chambering another round. He looked up at the man pointing a rifle at his head and froze.

Once more time stood still and everything was quiet except for the beating of his heart. It could have only been a second or two, but he felt it drag out like it was a lifetime. Everything was more detailed now, the powder residue on the end of the barrel and the bright red burned finger slowly pulling back on the trigger. Ed saw the man's face, anger and pain and scorched skin to go with his smoldering uniform. This man wanted revenge and was going to take their lives to make up for the pain inflicted on him. Ed continued to hold his breath, waiting for the pain to come to him as the bullet left the barrel and found it's way into his body. He didn't have time to clap and transmute something, he had no idea how he even had the time to think about all this. So this was how it was going to end.

 _SNAP!_

Edward watched a streak of flame explode from Mustang's outstretched hand, even felt the tingle of energy through his own arm as he gripped his superior's wrist. Instinctively he flattened himself out over the Colonel, bracing for the impact of the bullet that would be coming at them as the Aerugian's finger was already on the trigger. He couldn't hear it, not over the horrible screams.

"Ed."

"Mustang." Ed whispered, excited to hear the man's voice.

"You're small...but still crushing me." Roy gasped through the pain as Ed let his arm go. "Trying..to stop the bleeding and you're shoving my hand into my chest..."

Ed sat back and got off his Colonel's body, pulling the man over onto his back with his own momentum. He was never so happy to hear his damned smart ass mouth before and he couldn't help but smile, until he looked at the blue uniform and white gloves stained with red. Still he managed to counter with an upbeat, "It's only a shoulder wound, you whiner. It's not like you got your arm ripped off."

Roy coughed and winced. "I was trying to lure in my prey...I only had one chance to take them out in this plaza and I just used it."

"I'll transmute a tunnel from the cobblestone, just like I made this bunker." Ed assured him as he saw there was another wound dripping blood from his side. It looked like someone was trying to disable his arm so he couldn't use his attack.

Roy surveyed the situation and righted himself. His eyes looked over the pillbox and listened to the gunfire plinking at it's exterior. "What we need to worry about is grenades."

"We _need_ to get you out of here." Ed said and watched Mustang's eyes scan the interior of the stone encasement he made, then to the buildings now visible through the smoke he created with his attack. The man was planning to ignore his current condition and keep trudging forward.

"No." Roy shook his head, calculating. "The men who surrounded me have already pulled back to the buildings. They've taken up sniping positions. The worst thing we can do is move."

"Well..." Ed wasn't sure how he could sound so confident now, bleeding and cornered with death just waiting for them a few feet away. His own adrenaline was coursing through his veins and he was finally in a situation he understood. Villians trying to kill him was just like any other day. Finally he wasn't just sitting around helpless. "I can make a stone dome..."

"So they can bring in the mortars and destroy it over our heads? Want to be crushed to death instead of shot, do you?" Roy asked.

"I'll make us a covered tunnel to the alley..."

"Do you ever listen to anything I say? To _any_ order? Are you ever going to comprehend that I try my damnedest to protect every member of my team?" Roy growled, enjoying a little adrenaline from the anger.

"I..just saved your life _asshole_!" Ed screamed.

"And who is going to save yours, _idiot_?" Roy snapped back.

" _That would be us._ " Crackled the radio under Roy's butt. Catalina's cheerful voice continued, " _Your team heroes, Lieutenants Catalina and Breda. Best alchemist babysitters in Aerugo_."

Roy readjusted and grabbed the radio. "Commence firing whenever you have a target."

" _Good to hear your voice, Chief._ " Breda replied.

"Glad you think so, because I'm going to be screaming my head off at a certain Major when we get back to the truck." Roy glared at Ed who shot him a 'whatever' look. He took his finger off the radio and handed it to the kid. "Man the radio."

"You're welcome." Ed grumbled.

"Just keep your head down, alright?" Roy ordered and leaned around the edge of the bunker to snap off a wave of flames at a pile of leaves and debris. The move had the desired effect and two shooters shot at his movement, allowing his Lieutenants to pick them off. "Good news is these are not professional snipers."

"How do you know?" Ed asked.

"Because we'd be dead already." Roy shifted and wished he had his own sniper watching his back, but he couldn't dwell on that right now. Catalina was good but not Hawkeye. Breda did his job but was no sniper. "Also, they fell for that cheap trick and that means they're probably just here for the bounties."

"So just ordinary citizens?" Ed asked as more shots rang out in the plaza. He wasn't sure who was shooting anymore and it was weird that Mustang could just have a casual tactical conversation like this, like they were in a classroom and not a hastily made pillbox in a war zone.

"Don't apply your notions of 'innocent civilians' to this situation, Fullmetal." Roy grunted and pushed himself upright a little more, jarring his wound. "They may not be soldiers but they are armed individuals killing for blood money. They're worse. They have no cause other than a bounty, not country or ethics, they're ruthless individuals."

"Then why didn't they shoot to kill?" Ed asked and handed Mustang his own glove to use as a way to stem the blood-flow. He took the other one off his automail hand and placed it under Mustang's other hand that had yet to leave his side.

"Because they wanted to hold out for more money." Roy replied. "Extorting their own government for a bigger purse... or ours for our release."

"Oh." Ed sighed. Just when the world couldn't get any darker, he remembered there were more disgusting people out there than the ones he already encountered.

"Don't worry, our government doesn't negotiate with terrorists." Roy said with a smirk and glanced back at Ed who was just sitting there, no snappy comeback or even a move from his young body. He was too busy staring at the blood leaking onto the stone road. He was probably mentally calculating how much blood he had lost already. "That's why we have each other though."

Ed moved and realized Mustang's blood had seeped into his pants from the stone he was sitting on. "So if you bleed to death...I think I'm going to turn you in for the reward and quit my job."

Roy let loose a laugh and grinned. There was something so abhorrently wrong about cracking jokes in the situation, but so absolutely necessary since their lives were going to come to a very quick end if a miracle didn't happen shortly. "Did you see my reward poster? I'm surprised the ladies of Aerugo aren't here looking to drag me home and lock me in their basements."

"Maybe that's why these guys are here." Ed countered and Mustang snorted.

"Now you're sounding like a soldier."

"Is that how you got your promotions?" Ed replied, the familiar banter helped him keep his head clear of the fear. "Only way I can see you making it to Colonel when you have such shitty battle plans."

Roy winced as he shifted and his wound screamed at him for doing so. He could feel the bullet in his shoulder muscle and it was yelling the loudest, the one in his side must have gone through or found somewhere sturdy to lodge itself. He had to take a deep breath and focus, he needed to listen to other things right now and his own body would have to wait for a later appointment. Finally he was able to clear his head and take in his surrounding. It was quiet now, too damned quiet. There was only the sound of crackling fires, no gunfire and even stranger, no Kimblee. "Somethings going to happen, be ready."

Ed was about to yell at him about being so vague and pretending like he knew the future but then something did happen and it took his breath away, literally.

The pressure build up in the atmosphere gave Roy the advance notice that Kimblee had arrived. This was something much larger than the man was using in this campaign as he was careful to "enjoy each delightful explosion", but during Ishval a younger Kimblee was a lot less picky. He knew Kimblee didn't care about whether or not they survived it so he launched himself back into the pillbox and shielded Ed with his own body.

* * *

AN: Chapter Title from Henry V


	6. Bloody Thou Art, Bloody Will Be Thy End

_Battle Cry_

Chapter 6

 **Bloody Thou Art, Bloody Will Be Thy End**

-Richard III

* * *

Ed's cry of indignation was still caught in his throat as the stench of sweat and smoke threatened to suffocate him before Mustang's uniform could do the job. There was an explosion right after Mustang's body slammed him into the ground, his head cracked against the stone and he fought to stay conscious. His ears rang and he struggled for a breath of air as he tried to push the Colonel off him so he could move.

The Colonel wasn't moving and wasn't movable.

Ed was pinned underneath him and crushed against his chest. Blood from the man's gunshot wound stuck to his face and he desperately tried to shift around any way he could. He tried to push up on the Mustang to get him off his own body, but the weight was too much and he surmised that they must be trapped under debris. He groaned. The damned structure he made to protect the Colonel was now probably trying to kill him.

He shimmied around and tried to free his hands to do a transmutation. It was slow going and the more he moved, the more concerned he grew with the fact that Mustang _wasn't_ moving. He finally stopped to make sure the man was still breathing and put his ear against his chest and concentrated. His ears had finally stopped ringing and he tried to ignore his own pulse pounding through his aching head and when he did he heard something all too familiar, the ticking of a watch. He didn't need a visual to know that it was a silver watch with the crest of Amestris on it.

Ed stretched his neck as far as he could to get away from the pocket where the other alchemist kept his watch and pressed an ear against his chest. It took an enormous amount of strength and determination as the pressure from the weight on him was painful and causing him to take short breaths. There was a crinkle of something, probably a map or picture, and he felt rather than heard the man's breaths as a very slight warm air blew down upon his own face. He still heard the ticking from the watch though and it was a reminder that he was working against time; Mustang was bleeding from two gunshot wounds and he had no idea what damage the stone pillbox had done. In addition to the obvious danger of being crushed to death or buried alive, there was no telling how widespread the explosion was and it very well could have leveled the buildings Breda and Catalina were on.

It was going to be up to him. He was, after all, second in command and with Mustang unconscious that put him in charge.

 _Shit!_ That wasn't the best motivator, but the taste of Mustang's blood on his lips made him realize there was no time to dwell on anything but how the hell to save them. He just needed to get his hands free, once that happened he would be able to get every damnable stone off them. Then he heard a muffled voice and his heart lept, hoping it was Mustang rousing and preparing to curse him for disobeying orders again.

"Colonel!" Crackled the voice muffled by their bodies. "Ed!"

It was the radio. He was surprised it was still able to receive a signal under these rocks. That meant that they couldn't be buried _that_ deep and he mentally calculated the amount of materials he had used to make the pillbox. He and Mustang were still alive so rationally the only thing on top of them was the rocks he put there. The explosion simply collapsed it, not added to the rubble. He was starting to sweat as he struggled against the Colonel to move his hands again, movement and oxygen were limited here. He had to shake off his shock and move, this was not the first time he had been in danger without apparent means for escape. How did he, Edward Elric, get to the point where he had to push himself into action instead of think his way out of his impetuous actions? That had to end and it had to end now. He had people to protect.

He let out the best scream he could managed with his lungs being on reduced capacity and used the adrenaline rush to shove his hands together and quickly retract them in order to place them on the ground. He ignored the silt heavy air he just inhaled that was threatening to send him into a coughing spree and the taste of blood in his mouth. All that he was going to fixate on was the alchemy required to move these damned rocks off them and return them to the cove of safety they were previously.

It felt good, that tingling sensation of power and ability at his fingertips, and it gave him the surge of confidence he needed before emerging from the rubble and having to become the soldier he needed to be. He was engaged in the transmutation of the stone when he felt the weight of the rocks being lifted from them and he let out one more holler to bring it to completion. Then he cautiously opened his eyes and saw light, even if it was filtered through the airborne particles from the upheaval.

"Colonel?" Ed shook him now that he was the only object he was pinned under. He didn't want to just throw him off, even though he knew he would have done so if the man was awake. He could hear shouting now and he had no choice but to roll Mustang off him as someone, friend or foe, was about to emerge from the dust cloud. He caught a glimpse of wild black hair clinging to a blood smeared forehead as the limp frame flopped into the street unceremoniously. Ed got on his knees and put himself between the injured man and the oncoming assailant, hoping that when he had a moment to check his pulse again that it wouldn't be too late to save him.

If his mind was hesitant to allow him to act, than he'd let his anger take over and lead the charge. Hell, he was downright furious at himself for not doing something sooner, so angry that he almost sent an arsenal of stone pikes out of the ground into Lieutenant Catalina when she materialized out of the dust cloud from his transmutation. His heart pounded as the glow of energy danced around his hands, tips of the spikes just starting to jut out of the ground where the newest member of the team stood with her rifle at the ready.

"Ed!" Rebecca raised one hand off her rifle in a show of friendly intent. "It's just me. We've cleared the sector. Are you ok?"

The adrenaline rush was driving him forward but the anger was clouding his vision. Ed took a deep breath to relax and release the energy he didn't use in the transmutation even if he didn't want to let that power dissipate. He meant to utter an apology, but all that came out was an order. "The Colonel is wounded. We need to get him out of here _now_."

* * *

If the original train ride to Aerugo was a blur, the truck ride back to base camp was the exact polar opposite. There wasn't a moment that was lost on Ed, not the raspy wheezing from Mustang's mouth, not the spittle and foam tinged with blood, not the fine layer of chalky pulverized rock in his hair. Every bump made his commander wince even though Ed tried so desperately to keep the bloody rags made from the Colonel's uniform still as he knelt on the floor. Fuery was frantically hailing the medics on the radio while Breda drove, Falman held the man's head in his lap and Catalina tried to help stop the blood loss. They were about to lose their leader and it was all his fault.

Ed had been here before, helplessly kneeling next to someone he wanted to save. Despite everything he could manipulate with alchemy he still wasn't able to help anyone when they needed him most; Not his mother, not Al, not Nina and now Mustang was slipping away. He could hear the Colonel's breath begin to weaken and he started to panic, he was running out of time. "Colonel, you're not allowed to die...you hear me?"

Falman watched Mustang's eyes open just a crack and he bit his lip as he tried to be strong and not break down. "Yeah, Colonel, you gave us orders not to die."

"You expect us to follow those orders if you don't lead by example?" Ed's voice was strained as he tried to rile up the man who just saved his life. Ed closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on just the basics of anatomy and medicine that he had learned in order to bring back his mother. He just needed to stabilize him, but he just didn't know how. He studied the body, but it was different when you were trying to make one and not restore one. "Look bastard, if you don't help me figure out how to stop this bleeding I'm going to have to resort to a blood seal. Do you want your soul attached to this damned truck or your pocket watch? Maybe Fuery's radio?"

The radio crackled to life, " _Medics pulled back to main lines. Enemy flanked us_."

Breda swallowed hard. If the enemy had flanked the main force and turned the infantry lines away from the town, the alchemists were left without support. Hell, the infantry was without support as the artillery was waiting to advance to the town once it was secure. He looked up in the rear-view mirror and at Falman's watery eyes, they were about to lose Mustang and he couldn't care less about losing ground. "All the medics? What side are they on!?"

Fuery's hand trembled as he held the radio in his lap. No infantry to support the advance they could handle, but no doctors? Sure the main army needed them more, but their Colonel was just crushed under a pile of rubble and he _needed_ a doctor. He looked over the seat and caught a glimpse of the Colonel's pale, pain-wracked face before he turned back to watching the road to avoid showing his tears.

"Makes sense." Roy coughed and tried to get enough air to breathe. He couldn't have them getting themselves into trouble questioning the General's orders. "I'm one soldier...not much a field doctor can do for me..."

"Do you ever stop talking?" Ed growled and wiped at his eye as if he was brushing away spit, even though he was fooling no one. Falman's eyes were glistening as well as Mustang struggled to get a breath of air.

"Not your fault Ed." Roy closed his eyes. It was a struggle to get out those few words.

"Fine, Colonel, we don't need your damned help." Ed snapped and there was a tension in the car that made the hairs on his neck raise. "You lazy asshole, making everyone do your work just like always."

Roy opened his eyes to try to come up with something to say to Ed, anything to tell him how sorry he was for getting him to this. Instead his vision began to get fuzzy as his body failed to get the oxygen needed. Oxygen, his rise and fall. How ironic.

"Talk to me Falman." Ed said frantically as Mustang's eyes shut and his head lolled back and forth with the rocking motion of the vehicle speeding over rutted ground. "You must have read something, medical journals or biology books. Anything that can tell me what is happening so I can fix it."

Vato Falman took a deep breath as not only Ed's eyes looked on him for a decision, but Fuery's as well. He froze, panicked that this diagnosis was being placed on his shoulders when he was in no way qualified to make that call. Sure he had read plenty, but that didn't mean he was an expert. "Ed..."

"He can't breathe." Rebecca finally chimed in. She was holding a blood soaked rag to one of Mustang's wounds and this didn't look promising. This might be her first war but she was far from lacking in training or desire to use every last bit of it. "He's been crushed under a stone building and was close to that blast. There is some kind of lung trauma. His lips are turning blue. He's not getting oxygen."

"Pneumothorax." Falman blurted out. "A broken rib or the blast compromised the chest cavity, collapsing the lung. It would explain his chest pain and shortness of breath. It's not easy to diagnose..."

"Then I'll poke him until he screams." Ed said and slipped his hand under Mustang's back to push and prod at the man's ribs.

"Ed." Rebecca reached out and started poking at the Colonel's chest. "How did he land on you? Was your automail arm between you and him?"

Ed stopped what he was doing and looked to the Lieutenant who was just trying to help, not amplify his guilt over the already horrible situation. So he not only made the stone pllbox that fell on them but also crushed Mustang's lungs with his automail? Truth had to be laughing somewhere, that little bastard. "Yeah."

On cue Mustang's eyes shot open and his mouth opened to let out a choked scream. Rebecca help her finger on the spot and Mustang gasped at her with a look of betrayal. "You remember that next time you try to die on us, I know exactly where it hurts."

Falman clutched at his commander's shoulders as Ed saw an answer present itself in front of him. He rattled off the information from the medical journal he read in the infirmary that one time. "There is air in the chest cavity. The lungs need a vacuum to operate and the broken rib has punctured that tissue and has made a one way value to allow air in."

Rebecca watched Ed throw away the rag he was holding and sit up straight, he gritted his teeth and put his hands on Mustang's chest. They were out of options and time. Mustang's lips were as blue as his uniform. Then, it was like everything slowed and the air was almost heavy. She thought it was something Ed was doing but the truck suddenly jerked to the right. She looked up as she saw someone in the road and Breda jerked the wheel again to avoid a collision, but before she could caution Ed the truck lit up with the glow of alchemy and temporarily blinded them all, including Breda.

* * *

 _Central Command_

 _Central City, Amestris, 1914_

xxxxxxxxxxx

Fuhrer King Bradley stared at the map on his office wall and contemplated the recent news from the front. It seemed that the first foray outside of Amestris for his State Alchemists had ended in complete disaster. Sure the first few skirmishes had been overwhelming victories, Aerugo had no defense against the Alchemists and they rolled South without so much as a hiccup, but that hardly mattered now. Once the weather turned and the fertile farm fields of the South turned to clay bogs, it started to hamper the advance. Next, Claudio put price tags on the head of his alchemists to eliminate the biggest threat to his country and it seemed that the tactic worked.

Reports flooded in about Mustang being wounded in action and his staff desperately trying to navigate the atrocious roads to get him to a doctor before he died. Then the radio went silent and he waited for hours for the reports that the car had been found in a ditch. Mustang and his men were missing, Edward Elric included. Blood was all over the back seat but no bodies. Bradley didn't think Mustang would vanish, he held one of his most precious subordinates hostage, so there was a heavy possibility that someone killed them and took the bodies back for the bounty. Bradley wasn't sold on that, he had seen the fighting spirit in both Flame and Fullmetal and he doubted some opportunistic bounty hunter got the drop on both of them. So, were they simply playing dead in order to slip back to Central and free their comrades?

This is what bothered him about humans, their loyalty made them incredibly unpredictable. Even in life or death situations, they would act against their survival instinct to protect each other. So it was time to flush them out if they were indeed still alive and trying to find their way back home. He walked to his phone and dialed the penitentiary. After a few rings the warden picked up. "This is Fuhrer Bradley, I'm authorizing the release of First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. Evidence has come across my desk exonerating her. Please have her brought to Central Command immediately as I will be giving her her new orders personally."

" _Yes, sir._ "

Bradley hung up the phone and looked over at the map. He would leave it to his staff to find someone to pin the assassination attempt on, he had more important things to think about. Once Hawkeye arrived, he'd tell her about her team's disappearance and her new assignment as Kimblee's bodyguard. If anything was going to bring Roy Mustang back from the dead, it was putting his beloved Hawkeye at Kimblee's side considering Crimson's history with blowing up his colleagues.


	7. In Cruelty Will I Seek Out My Fame

_Battle Cry_

Chapter 7

 **In Cruelty Will I Seek Out My Fame**

-Henry VI, Pt II

* * *

 _Central Command_

 _Central City, Amestris_

xxxxxxxxxx

King Bradley was not a man who took his duty lightly. He was created and raised to be the ultimate soldier and in turn became the most qualified Fuhrer Amestris had ever had. Being a soldier there was something that irked him above all else: insubordination. Being a Fuhrer made that slight personal. Being the homunculus Wrath, made it the fuel for an inextinguishable pyre of rage. This current situation was thanks to this insatiable urge to quench that wrath.

He expected orders to be followed and he demanded a certain level of dedication and compliance within the ranks of his army. Those expectations were not unreasonable. When his own soldiers, especially those who had _him_ to thank for their success, defied him it made him vindictive and someone irrational in his actions. He wanted to punish those who continued to try to undermine him and he found a balance of suffering and correction in destroying what they held dear. It was the only way to regain control and crush that defiance.

He felt something wet on his hand and looked down at the remains of a coffee cup in his clenched fist. The coffee was now puddling on the floor and mixing with some blood from the cuts in his hand from the accidental destruction of the mug. He dropped the chards of ceramic into the trash and shook off his hand, expelling a piece of mug out of his skin in the process. He picked out another piece of shrapnel and allowed his anger to ebb in the process, he was allowing his sin to once again get the better of him if he could crumble the damned mug like this by just thinking to himself. He wrapped a handkerchief around his hand to stem the bleeding and then threw the mornings newspaper down to soak up the spill. Collected, he went over to the window to look down on the courtyard to watch the guard drill as a handful of civilians watched.

There was something he knew and utilized as Fuhrer: scared and vulnerable humans were the easiest to lull into compliance. They would happily surrender freedoms if it meant that someone else would worry about their safety and they could continue going about their mundane lives with less fear. Some humans, however, would hang on to their rights until their dying breaths. They would question, investigate and conspire to find the truth, unable to accept the alluring bliss of ignorance. It was no surprise that the alchemists were the ones who could never leave it alone. His Achilles heel, the alchemists he cultivated to be his greatest weapons were also the ones who could not be dissuaded from the call of Truth.

It was the more talented ones that were the issue. It came as no surprise as those who could bend and control nature at that level were more dedicated to the art and it's core principals. McDougal tried to unveil their darkest secrets but he cut him down early enough. Marcoh was another problem, his conscience could not be bought and he could never get beyond the truth despite his incredible achievement. Then there were the Elrics and Mustang. Those were current problem, something he was going to have to answer to Father for.

Now Mustang and the Elrics were different, they were hero types. He thought the death of Hughes would deter them, remind them of the costs of their search for truth, but it only made them more secretive and more aggressive in their goals. If anything, the act warned them that they were on to something and they were more cautious with their quest. These were the most difficult of the humans to control, the ones who would strive for justice no matter the cost: the ones who just couldn't look away from the truth. He valued them even if they did need to be monitored and he even could go so far as to say he was proud to show off the capability of Amestrian alchemy advancements in the form of Flame and Fullmetal. In them was power, and power was everything to a man in his position.

Perhaps if they hadn't been his own alchemists he wouldn't have been so enraged by their actions, but they were indebted to him for their fame and positions. He made them and he was entitled to their service. Without the lucrative position of State Alchemist they would not have the prestige, funding or information available to even begin a quest of this magnitude. Mustang was made in Ishval and if he didn't have that conflict to make him into a man and weapon, the Flame Alchemist would have never seen his ultimate use and power. He was forged in the fire of that war and instead of giving his benefactor the gratitude he deserved he wanted more. He gathered allies loyal to him; his precious team, his friend Hughes who used his position in Intelligence to assist him, his protege Fullmetal who he used to do his deeds for him and Alphonse Elric who continued in their stead once this war began. He admired the man's ability, he was obligated to appreciate a worthwhile opponent when he saw one, but Mustang was still too damned weak. He was emotional and too attached to his soldiers and that made it all too easy to break him down. Father needed him alive as a sacrifice and the Fuhrer needed him as a weapon, so it was time to use his greatest weakness to drive him to his knees.

He smiled to himself as he saw a new arrival to the courtyard, a certain female sniper who was being escorted to his office. He threw away the bloody handkerchief and watched the blood continue to seep from the wound. He pulled another monogrammed handkerchief from the drawer and wrapped it around his hand to apply pressure to the wound and appreciated the irony of the act: Hawkeye was on her way to act as the bandage on this hemorrhaging problem he created. If he didn't act quickly this mess would spread and others would get involved, that would simply not do. When he reported this turn of events to Father, he would immediately present the solution to that problem. At no point did anyone need to discuss his own weakness that created all of it.

The stage had been set for the peace talks and Prince Claudio was welcomed into Central City with no expense spared. It was an excellent opportunity to raise morale, especially with all the unrest in the Eastern region, and as a leader he welcomed the opportunity to keep his people happy. There was growing discord among the populous towards the military and a few political rivals were calling for demilitarizing certain portions of the government. His response to the call to limit the power of Central Command was to show the citizens exactly _why_ he needed such extensive control. They needed the protection and military might to ward off any threats to their happiness and Aerugo was going to prove to them that they could never let their guard down.

He had put Mustang in charge of the Prince's security detail knowing that young fool's career would be permanently tarnished in the aftermath of the events that would play out. He wasn't anticipating an impostor to arrive in Prince Claudio's place. It actually made things easier. His own staff monitored their 'guests' activities and uncovered the plans to attack Central while also keeping the information from Mustang's team. He formulated a simple plan, he would allow this fake Claudio to go about his business while the Aerugo mercenaries got in position for their attacks. Then once activity signaled an attack, he would have the man shot, the mercenaries arrested and the plot thwarted. It would allow him to walk on stage as the unshakable force that not only saw through the plot but acted before these foreigners could claim innocent Amestrian lives.

He personally gave the order to Lieutenant Hawkeye to put the man down, with orders to not tell even her own supervisor. He didn't doubt her compliance with his orders, she understood his threat when he told her it might be damaging if the sniper was named and secrecy was essential. She understood it wasn't her career than either one of them was talking about and he had genuinely smiled at that. He appreciated the fear in her eyes and the curt 'Yes, sir' and sharp salute that emphasized she would do the job anyway. A real soldier. He liked that about her and he knew he had nothing to worry about from Hawkeye, she would complete the task no matter what the repercussions. Unfortunately he wasn't expecting Mustang and Elric to get in the way again, once again trying to protect everyone they could.

He was mentally practicing his speech when it happened, when everything went wrong. Edward Elric sprinted across the stage to save the Prince, taking the sniper's bullet in his automail arm to save the man. Roy Mustang, clearly more in tune with his subordinate's actions than he thought, pulled his sniper off the roof in the ensuing chaos. The stampede of civilians out of the collesium allowed the mercenaries to gain the upper hand over his personal guards, the attacks commenced and the Prince escaped into the crowd. He could feel the enamel grinding off his teeth and the need to crush Mustang's throat was all too great.

However, he was still the Fuhrer and he would have to salvage it. One plan scrapped another hatched almost instantly. He'd gained great satisfaction from watching Mustang sweat under the grueling hours of questioning in front of a military inquiry. He had to watch in silence as his precious Lieutenant refused to contradict the Fuhrer's statements on the stand and instead accepted the blame for trying to take the Prince's life. Aerugo had assisted Ishavl during the war, they had supplied weapons and soldiers and Amestrian lives had been lost because of it, something a veteran might harbor resentment over. Mustang would answer for his failure to protect the Prince and for the damages done to Central because of the Aerugoian soldiers acting to protect their leader.

It was quite the show, but in the end they had to rule in Mustang's favor in order to ensure Aerugo was the enemy. The inquiry did it's job in putting a black mark on Mustang's career and also allowing him to hold Hawkeye as a hostage. Mustang would have to go to war to redeem himself and he would take Fullmetal with him along with the remains of his staff. It would keep them busy until the Promised Day, protecting his subordinates at home and at war. He considered it a victory when there was nothing but support for war against the neighbor to the South and one very understanding Colonel who understood exactly what he had to lose. Amestris would settle back down into complacency, the economy would boom thanks to the war and the homunculi could operate within their borders without hinderance.

Now Mustang and Elric were once again destroying his well constructed plans. He had hoped that war would deal a crippling blow to their ideals and help hinder some of their meddling upon their return to Amestris. He had hoped that getting them away from home would sever any lines of communications they might have with allies here. However Alphonse Elric and the crippled Lieutenant Havoc had been busy. The younger Elric was continuing to research and Havoc was using his old connection to East City to help the boy out. He didn't know how far they were getting, but sending their ally from East City, Lieutenant Catalina, to war as Hawkeye's replacement was enough to shut down their activity for a while. He had listened in to Edward's last communication from the front and was glad they got the message loud and clear. Or maybe they didn't. As he continued to stare at the map on the wall of the enemy nation, he couldn't help but wonder if he underestimated them again.

There was a knock on his office door. Lieutenant Hawkeye had arrived. He locked his hands behind his back to hide the bleeding mess that was his hand and said, "Come in."

* * *

 _North of Vertigris_

 _Aerugo_

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Ed looked at the pale man on the farmhouse kitchen table and wondered if he'd ever be able to tell Winry about this or if it would be another tale of horror he couldn't share. He held Mustang's flask ready over the man's shoulder wound for when Catalina finally managed to grab the bullet she was fishing for. Breda was trying to hold the gunshot wound open for her so she could have better access and Falman was busy boiling supplies for the blood transfusion. Everyone was silent, except for Catalina who was grunting and cursing under her breath.

If there was one thing he was good it, it was wandering across the countryside and making due with what he had available. Taking charge was easier than he expected, mainly because he didn't have to think about it. He acted without hesitation, using his gathered information and experience to lead the team to this farm and prepare Mustang for a field surgery he hopefully would bitch about to his grandkids. It had been non stop danger since they crawled out of that ditch and he didn't have a single moment to reflect until now. Now that he was standing still, hovering over a man who just refused to die, he felt wobbly with exhaustion and his mind allowed him to replay the recent events.

" _The explosion...was Lieutenant Colonel Kimblee." Fuery said into the radio but it was dead, damaged in the crash._

 _Kimblee walked over to the car in the ditch and the soldiers crawling around inside it. He bent down to look into a broken window and squatted there while the passengers tried to right themselves. "You should be more careful, the roads around here are dangerous."_

 _Ed had been thrown over Mustang and now his ear was right next to the man's face. He felt breath and that was all he needed to be assured of. He turned to look at Kimblee as Catalina and Falman clutched Mustang's body. The bastard was smiling at him like this was just some casual conversation they had around the camp stove in their tent. "Who's side are you on Kimblee?"_

" _Mine." The Lieutenant Colonel replied and pulled his pocket watch out. "Care to join me for a little discussion out here? I'm letting things heat up on the front lines a bit so I can have more material to play with."_

 _Ed watched him stand up and disappear. He looked down at Mustang now that the obvious threat was away from the window and held his good hand under his nose to make sure he wasn't imagining the breath before. He was breathing stronger. However they had so much more to fix and now no transportation to get him to a doctor thanks to Kimblee. Now, he was pissed._

 _Fuery crawled out the passenger window after he used his uniform to cover the shattered glass and then opened the back door so they could get Mustang out. Ed shuffled out first, then transmuted the door into a stretcher so they could slide the Colonel onto it without disturbing him more than the accident already did. The team worked quickly and without speaking, there wasn't a single one of them that needed to be told what the danger was. Ed chanced a glance over the edge of the ditch and saw Kimblee standing in the road with his face to the wind retying his ponytail. He pulled his jacket off and laid it over Mustang's chest to try and protect the already damaged man as much as he could while also freeing himself up for mobility. He transmuted his arm into a blade and then approached Kimblee ready for a fight, but the man greeted him with a pleasant grin._

" _You have a choice to make, Major." Kimblee checked his watch again and them put it away. "Do you bring your Colonel back to camp so he can take his chances with an overwhelmed hospital staff or..."_

" _Or?" Ed snapped impatiently. He didn't have time for Kimblee's shit either._

" _Leave. Go AWOL. Find some Aerugian version of the Rockbells that will patch him up and you and the merry band can head back to Amestris. There are some terrible things going on there, you know."_

" _He needs a doctor." Ed watched Kimblee nonchalantly shrug. God how he wanted to wipe that look off his face with his fist._

" _He will see one eventually. Lots of wounded and triage will still put him after amputation cases, the field hospitals have a lot of customers right now. He'll get seen to eventually, then get sent back to the field hospital behind the lines thanks to being a valuable patient. However that leaves you in charge of his team and under my command. If he survives the hospital, we both know he'll leave early to relieve you of that burden and probably kill himself with neglect. Whatever. Your choice, you're in charge now."_

" _Technically, you outrank me." Ed said cautiously and wondered how he'd disable Kimblee's attacks. "And what you were suggesting is treason."_

 _Kimblee sighed as if such matters were trivial. "I'm here to destroy things and really my loyalty has never been to anyone other than myself. Mustang is in my way. If the General has reason to think the enemy has taken you and the master hostage, then that removes any reservations anyone has about letting me do my job. Flame won't be here with his bleeding heart to dissuade anyone from advancing before the enemy can regroup. I want this all to myself."_

 _Ed felt a chill go down his spine._

" _Mustang snuffs out the victims before they can scream, I bet you didn't know that. I listen, I want to hear that symphony of horror and it's just not there. Just sporadic, from when he has no choice than to eliminate someone before he can rush them with oxygen and ease their passing. Like giving a shot of sedative before the vial of euthanasia liquid. He's more polished than he used to be, which is a shame. God, was it something else the way a man on fire could scream..."_

 _Ed was done listening. "I thought you were working for Bradley! Is this his order? Does he want to throw us in jail like Hawkeye? Execute us? What the hell does he want?"_

 _Kimblee shrugged again. "I don't care what he wants. I bargained for release only because he wanted me to go after that Ishvalian, Scar. I happen to have a very high work ethic and I don't appreciate knowing that I left a job unfinished. This is simply a delightful bonus."_

" _Ethic is not something I ever think you have an issue with." Ed said. What the hell did Scar have to do with this? Kimblee wasn't released until war was declared so was Scar also out here waiting for them? So many State Alchemists in one place...why wouldn't he be..._

" _Make a decision kid, your Colonel is running out of time. You want to live with his blood on your hands? The man who saved your life is now bleeding to death over there."Kimblee said and put his hands in his pockets. "I'm not going divulge every motivation I have for doing this, I like to retain some mystery about me. So what's it going to be? Return to the kennel like a good boy or run free now that you're off your leash?"_

 _Ed moved so he could chance a looked over at the Colonel laying in the road unconscious with the rest of the team around him. "I'm in charge, that means this decision is on me and nobody else."_

" _Good move." Kimblee grinned and tossed him the keys to the truck he had 'borrowed' from a squad of mercenaries._

 _With that the other alchemist walked away whistling some upbeat tune and Ed transmuted his arm back to normal. He returned to the team and handed Breda the keys. "Lieutenant, can you still drive?"_

" _Yeah." Breda looked up and wiped a stream of blood off his forehead._

" _We're heading North." Ed said and they all looked to him astonished. "That's an order. "So whatever happens from here is because you were following my orders, got that?"_

" _Major." Breda stood up and Ed was scared he was going to disobey, scared that his first attempt to be an officer would result in failure. "That's not how plausible deniability works."_

 _It was a relief, feeling Breda's hand on his shoulder and the encouraging squeeze. Then the Lieutenant went to get the truck and he looked down at the Colonel who was laying in the road with his shirt ripped open and two bleeding wounds, a lump in his chest and an appalling scar on his side. Catalina was trying to make sense of what he did. "Do any of you have medical training?"_

 _Catalina looked up at him and tried to give an encouraging smile. "Of course. I'm looking for a rich husband , you think I wouldn't take the opportunity to get close to some hot doctors?"_

 _Ed had to smile, she wasn't Hawkeye but it was nice to have someone upbeat. She covered Mustang back up with Ed's jacket. "Do you think...you can get those bullets out?"_

" _We're not heading back to camp for a doctor?" Fuery asked incredulously._

" _We don't have that kind of time." Rebecca said. "He's lost a lot of blood. Even before the car accident."_

" _Why North?" Falman asked as Breda backed up the truck._

 _Ed replied, "I saw on the map that there was a stockyard and grain storage on the north side of town. Odd to have that kind of thing upwind of the place, unless they don't want cattle and trucks running through the town. So I think there might be a farm or ranch north of here. We can follow the path the cattle have worn back to the place they came from before being sold. A farm...will have enough medical supplies to treat the animals and we should be able to find what we need for him there."_

 _Catalina stood and said. "I have cross trained as a medic but I'm not qualified to do more than stabilize a patient. I'm not a doctor."_

" _Neither am I." Ed said and lifted his automail arm up and shook it, the rattling sound got everyone's attention. "But I just transmuted a piece of my arm into a brace for that broken rib. So maybe using veterinary supplies won't be the worst thing we do today."_

* * *

AN: Sorry for the wait. I haven't had as much time to write as I would like.

I decided to try a different style when writing this story and went with a slower reveal of the background events to help create a more isolated feel to the narrative. Also wanted to explore Bradley's sin more as his vice tends to be shown as more of a anger instead of the festering vindictive fury. I wanted him to retaliate for what he would have seen as a personal slight from the Alchemists he made powerful, as it would be more than just simple disobedience from a subordinate. As he was made, he made the State Alchemists. Their fame, their prestige, their power is thanks to the man who they served. So naturally, it would invite some rage from their benefactor when they continually undermine him.

Anyhow, let's see how it all plays out. ;) Thank you very very much for the reviews/follows and favorites.


	8. We few,We happy few, We band of brothers

_Battle Cry_

Chapter 8

 **We few, we happy few, we band of brothers**

-Henry V

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 _Vecchio's Cattle Farm_

 _North of Vertigris_

 _Aerugo_

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"It's too damned quiet in here. Talk to me Ed, tell me what you did in the truck to fix the rib." Rebecca wiped some sweat off her brow with her sleeve before going back to rooting around the Colonel's shoulder for a bullet.

Ed gave a weak smile. Winry was going to be pissed. "When Falman told me the vacuum of the chest cavity had been compromised and the puncture made a one way value, I figured the gas exchanges were the best way to locate the leak. I'm an alchemist, I just had to focus on the movement of air that was different from the surrounding area to find the location of the puncture. Then I used alchemy to transmute the bone back into place and took a short metal plate out of my arm to mend the break and stop it from folding back onto the hole. If it's membrane, allowing it to suction itself back together would be the best way to reapply the seal."

"Lovely work." Rebecca nodded to the raised portion of skin on Mustang's chest. "Should keep bachelor of the year here out of any centerfold shoots for a while."

Breda looked at the lump in Mustang's chest that was clearly the man's new automail rib. "How did you get it in there? You can't transmute something through skin, can you?"

"No, I had to actually make the end as sharp as a scalpel and cut the skin here." Ed showed where there was a fine line where the precision cut had been made. " And I slid the metal in, then transmuted rivets through the bone to keep it in place. The cut was made with a sharp enough instrument that the flesh closed up right after the incision. The bleeding was minimal."

"So, you stuck a non sterilized chunk of metal into him?" Rebecca asked. "Not criticizing, just wondering how much more we're going to have to worry about. Also really impressive you did that all in the seconds before the crash. You saved his life."

"Yeah." Ed said. Damn, he didn't think about that. His arm was probably filthy from being in that pile of rubble. _Shit!_ He looked at Mustang and wondered if he'd ever open his eyes again so he could just utter an apology for fucking up everything. He looked away, not wanting to be overcome with emotion like he was in the car. Nobody needed that. Things had been happening so fast he didn't have time to think and second guess his actions. Even with the best medical professionals, Mustang would be labelled 'prognosis:poor' and here he was on someone's kitchen table attended to by dusty unqualified soldiers, livestock supplies and a damned kid who managed to destroy everyone who was close to him. In true Edward Elirc fashion, he used alchemy to save a life and in turn tortured the people he was trying to save. Mom, Al...Mustang...who had he ever really helped with alchemy...

Falman brought over a syringe and set it down on the tray. "There is no difference between human and animal Tetanus anti-toxoid."

Rebecca finally pulled the bullet out and threw it in a chipped tea cup. Falman returned to doing the dishes in the form of cleaning up the stash of equipment they found in the milking room. She nodded to Ed and he poured the last of Mustang's whiskey over the wound as an attempt to keep things sterile. Breda quickly put a gauze pad over the hole and taped it to the Colonel's pale skin. "I need a break."

Breda nodded as she pulled off her rubber gloves and threw them in the trash can. This house was a quaint farmhouse, the family had quickly uprooted and went on a cattle drive when their town turned into a war-zone. Supply teams would have come upon this place quickly, either seized or killed the cattle, and ransacked the place. This family's livelihood was tied to the animals they raised and they did the most rational thing and left their home behind. When they returned, if they returned, he wondered if they'd be able to clean the bloodstains from the worn oak floor. He noticed Ed checking the Colonel's other wound. The next step was going to be to try to put some blood back into the man to compensate for all that he had already lost. Thankfully blood types were stamped on their dog tags, but that didn't help when they had patient needing AB negative blood and only one person could donate thanks to the rest of them having RH positive types. It didn't mean it was an easy choice. "Ed, about the transfusion."

"I'm an O negative, universal donor. " Ed said. "So I don't want to hear it. I don't want any wise ass remarks about me being too small to donate. Take as much as you need."

"Not exactly how donating blood works." Rebecca said and untangled some of the line they had sterilized. She couldn't believe she was doing this. All that cross training she volunteered for was meant to get her a new, wealthier pool of potential husbands, cure some boredom with her job and get her away from Grumman's grabby hands. Never did she think she'd be in a situation where she was the only option for a medic. "Look, for this kind of field blood transfusion it's not like going into some clinic and donating. It's nasty."

" _As much as he needs_." Ed said emphatically. "I've given blood for less noble causes."

"Ed, listen to me." Catalina snapped . "It's a direct transfusion, we go from artery of the donor to vein of the recipient. Your radial artery needs to be exposed, which means I have to cut your damned arm open."

"Do it." Ed said and rolled up his sleeve on his good arm. "We don't have any other choice. We can't put it in a jar because it will coagulate, right Falman?"

"Yes." Falman said and added. "There is a method for accumulating it in a jar, whipping it with a fork and then straining it before putting it in heated water. Then we can syringe it into the patient. However we don't have the time or blood to waste with learning that process."

"So it has to be this way. I am the only one who can donate because of my blood type." Ed said and helped clean up the table so he could make a space to lie down next to the Colonel. He hoped up on the table and said, "We also don't have time to continue arguing about this."

"Ed, I have to cut your arm open while you lay on the table next to him." Rebecca said and grabbed his arm. They had already discussed the process but now that it was looming on the horizon she wasn't sure she could preform it. He was still a damned kid, he didn't know what the hell he was volunteering for. "I am slicing open your arm and your artery! You could die!"

"I had my arm ripped off, I can handle it." Ed said and looked over at the Colonel. "He saved my life, and he's lying there like that because of me!"

"Ed." Rebecca put her hand on his shoulder and took a deep breath. "This is as much for you as for me. I'm not a doctor. I need to tell you what I am going to do to be prepared. This artery in your wrist needs to be exposed, I'm going to have to use this scalpel to expose it. I'm only vaguely aware of where it's supposed to be and might need to make a few cuts. The artery might be small. We only have a needles intended for cattle. We have no idea how much blood you are donating this way, which is almost as dangerous as opening an artery. After that's done, then I have to stitch you up with some household sewing needle and boiled horsehair. This is insane."

"Do it." He said. "We don't have time to argue! Dammit, do you want me to order you to do it? FINE. Just cut my damned arm open and get the Colonel his blood, that's an order Lieutenant Catalina!"

"I found some Lidocaine in the diary shed." Falman put that down on the tray. "That should help numb the pain of the incision."

"I really will be a dog of the military now. All I need is a rabies shot to go along with all these veterinary supplies." Ed said to try to calm Catalina as she began to look a more than a little nervous. He tried to grab her hand before she took a step away.

"I can't do this." Rebecca turned away and shook her head. "We have to try to get back to the lines...he's stabilized...we stopped the bleeding which all I'm qualified to do."

"About all we can say right now is that he's not dead." Breda said and the silence in the room was deafening. "We are out of range of the radios, even if Ed fixed ours. We know there is a battle going on we can hear the damned artillery from here. We would be going onto a battlefield completely blind, we don't know if they turned our flank or not. The Army could have pulled back or maybe turned them back and taken the town. We don't know. Right here and now all we know is that the Colonel needs help. So if we can help him, we have to. We are working against time; both his injuries and the unlikely event that the enemy might discover our position. We have to do whatever is be ready to move as soon as possible."

Rebecca nodded and turned to look at her tray of supplies as Breda helped move Ed closer to Mustang. The table was small and Ed was going to have to keep his arm across Mustang's chest to allow her access to make the cuts. "Falman, I am going to need you to be my assistant over here. Read me the medic manual on this, line by line."

Ed watched her hand shake as she inspected the gathered instruments and talked in hush tones with Falman. Breda wasn't so bad at speeches and he was a really good officer, he could be commanding and that was what this unit needed. Not him. Not the stupid kid who kept making mistake after mistake. Breda was hovering over him and he whispered, "Look, Lieutenant..."

Breda put his hand on his shoulder again and stopped him before he could continue. He knew what the kid was going to say, that he wasn't the one for the job anyhow so might as well just take him out of the picture. Nobody needed to hear that. "Chief, I'll hold down the fort until you recover. Don't worry."

"But..." Ed's eyes watered as his arm touched the Colonel's chest and felt how cold he was. He was still breathing but life was drained from him. Not only did he probably get him killed but he took his unit and deserted. _Shit!_ How much more could he fuck up? "I haven't told you everything."

"It's not my place to question your orders." Breda said and felt an automail hand grab his wrist.

"Kimblee." Ed whispered. "He didn't say it directly but the threat was there. He gave me a choice to go back to camp or leave and I could feel the energy around us...I felt him preparing to finish us off. It was either go or die and I was bluffing. I disabled my damned arm, I couldn't fight him and he would have beat me to a transmutation."

"You did the right thing." Breda said. "We were witnesses to what he did, both times. Perhaps the explosion in the plaza could have been written off as an accident...but him causing that accident would have been hard to explain."

Ed wet his parched lips with his tongue as he thought through his next statement. "I don't know why he would give us the choice to leave but I think you should know this while you're in charge. In case you decide we need to head back to camp."

Breda sighed. "I'm not going to seize command while you're weak from blood donation. When you and the Colonel are stabilized again we can discuss options. Right now, no matter what you think you just ordered us to do, the situation is going down in the official records as a need to retreat, regroup and doctor our commander. Our only intent is to keep him safe and save his life. That, Major, is how you get yourself a medal on your chest instead of a bullet from a firing squad. Same platform in Central command, just depends on how you tell your story."

Ed took a deep breath. It was a load of worry off his chest that someone would happen up on them and he might not be awake to take the blame for all this. He should have known Breda would have already formulated something. Still, one more nagging question needed to be answered. "Kimblee, why would he want us alive? He said he wanted all the fun to himself, but that could be achieved by killing us."

Breda mulled over that, Kimblee was a hard one to get a read on. "You and Mustang are probably the two most prominent and talented alchemists the State has. You're competition, and I don't mean to imply he's trying to get ahead. I think he sees you as on his level of skill, nobody else in this world can even come close to him without you two still alive."

"You think he wants to fight us?" Ed said and felt sick. What kind of a fight would that be with Mustang and himself in this condition? To make matters worse, he was about to disable his 'good' arm with this transfusion because Catalina had to open him up, cut an artery and stitch him back up. He was going to have to be very careful with even a clap and transmutation because the stitches could tear and he could reopen the artery and bleed out. Mustang wouldn't be viable for a long time. "Like he released us to hunt us later?"

"I don't know." Breda admitted. "I don't think anyone could really understand what that man is thinking. If he's answering to Bradley, I can't imagine the Fuhrer would allow anyone to kill you two. They didn't even execute Kimblee after what he did in Ishval, they locked him away until they needed him. You two are too valuable to lose."

"Kimblee said he was hunting Scar." Ed whispered and Breda's eyes widened.

"Scar is a man without a country, I doubt he'd have a problem crossing borders." Breda bit his lip, this was a development he didn't expect. Watching for Kimblee was one thing, the man announced his presence, but Scar wasn't a gentleman about how he did battle. He was a man on a mission to destroy state alchemists and he already knew about Ed and Mustang's weaknesses. "Plus Aerugo supplied arms and mercenaries to Ishval during the war. He probably has contacts here from those days. I heard a rumor that refugees from Ishval were welcomed into Aerugo as they share a similar belief that alchemists are defying God with their power."

"Kimblee said he had a work ethic, that he left a job unfinished." Ed said and laid his head down on the table and stared at the cracking plaster ceiling. "He's going after those refugees."

Breda looked up as Rebecca came over with her instruments and looked about ready to vomit. "Ok Ed, we'll talk about it later."

Ed opened his mouth to ask another question but Breda stuck a wooden spoon between his teeth. It was time to donate blood. He looked over at the Colonel who lay on the table beside him and hoped that giving this life pulsing through his veins would be equivalent exchange for the life he tried to give him back in the plaza. _Please don't die, Colonel. Please. I don't know what I'm doing. God, we're in so deep here I have no idea how to even start to climb out. Please...please don't die. I can't lose someone else._

Catalina began to prepare to inject the lidocaine into the skin surrounding the site where she needed to cut; cut into a live human with a scalpel intended for a cow before stabbing him with the huge animal gauge needle. A fourteen year old boy who was at war and in command of a team of adults who couldn't save him from any of this. A boy who constant sacrificed for others but never gained anything for it. The true universal donor. She closed her eyes to avoid looking at the tears welling in Ed's eyes, thinking he was scared of the crude surgery about to be preformed. "Ready?"

* * *

AN: Did some research (OK a lot of research) for this chapter and the blood typing choices went beyond just 'universal donor' etc. Personality traits are attributed to the blood types as well which backed up my choices a little.

Also the crude direct transfusion is from around the turn of the century/World War 1 era. I read an excerpt from an army surgical manual from the 1870's which really did say beat the blood with a fork, stick or bunch of straw. Good stuff. That was even before looking at the equipment they used to do it.

Thank you for reading! :) This chapter came along quickly but the next will take a little longer. Got to bounce back to another fic and try to get that finished.


	9. Woe to the hands that shed costly blood

_Battle Cry_

Chapter 9

" **Woe to the hands that shed this costly blood"**

-Julius Caesar

* * *

Ed could only grunt in reply with the spoon in his mouth as it was there to stop him from interrupting as well as protect him from the pain. His skin cooled as Catalina swabbed him with a piece of cheese cloth soaked with the few remaining drops of precious alcohol from Mustang's flask cap. He blinked as Breda blocked out the light as he approached from the other side to hold him down. Falman's hands grasped his forearm and bicep to keep the arm from moving while the procedure was done. Ed wasn't sure if they doubted his pain tolerance or if they simply wanted to hold on to him, to physically try to keep him from slipping away from them just as Mustang had.

And there he was again, closing his eyes because he couldn't get the last image of Mustang's stupid smile out of his head as he tried to make the situation in Vertigris less dire. Bastard. He hated himself for not seeing the motives behinds Mustang's carefully chosen words and attitude until now. How he cleverly hid his dedication to his people behind that arrogant facade, but his actions had always spoken the truth. Ed could break a human down into mere elements, but he couldn't see past a mere act to see what Mustang really was made of until it was too late. He remembered the calm of looking at Mustang's damned grin and listening to his unwavering voice and knew that was what a good leader would do. So he opened his eyes and spat out the spoon. Then he sternly said, "Lieutenant, we can't wait any longer. The Colonel needs blood."

Rebecca nodded. Ed's voice was lower, he was trying to sound so much older than he really was. He was trying to mimic Mustang, this time not a joke or in an attempt to mock his superior, but to emulate the man and try to rise to the occasion. It hurt, knowing that the adults couldn't be strong for him and he had to take charge. "I'm ready."

Edward knew it was a cue to the others to tighten their grip on him. Breda stuck the spoon back in his mouth and gave him a glare to let him know he expected it to stay there. They were scared too. Any flailing around would certainly cause more damage, if not kill him quicker. He had been through worse. He just had to keep telling himself that. He had been through worse for more selfish reasons than to save a man's life who had, without hesitation, put himself in harm's way to protect a stupid brat who couldn't follow orders. Breda leaned on him and pinned his shoulder, Falman's grip was sweaty and shaking and Catalina was moving instruments around on the tray trying to avoid the inevitable. They were all scared.

"The first step is to use the Lidocaine as a numbing agent so the incision won't be so painful." Falman saw Rebecca toying with the syringe again and remembered his part was to dictate instructions. They didn't have much of the drug, the vial was only a quarter full when they found it in the refrigerator in the barn. Fuery had volunteered to be the test subject and make sure the drug wasn't expired or tainted, thankfully the drug was still viable and didn't cause a reaction. It removed one unknown from the equation.

"Inject it under the skin. Wait to see if there is a reaction and once the area is numb, prepare for the incision." Falman continued.

Rebecca nodded. Following orders was easier, it was ingrained in them to not question orders in a situation like this. Even if Falman wasn't anywhere near a superior, his voice in the background made her feel like this was just like her training, like she had someone who knew what they were doing looking over her. It was far from the truth, but he was happy to indulge the fantasy right now. She marked out the length of the incision area with a marker and then injected the area with enough lidocaine to make the skin puff up and show it was subcutaneously administered. That was the easy step.

"Next, make an incision on the wrist to expose the radial artery. It should be right under the skin at the wrist, further up the arm it will be buried under muscle." Falman repeated the words from memory with confidence, even though he couldn't quite fathom what the reality of that statement was going to look like. Manuals were one thing, seeing Ed's arm cut open was another.

Rebecca relied heavily on her sniper training to focus herself on the task at hand. When preparing to take a shot, the shooter would have to shoot between breaths to ensure there was as little movement as possible and to ensure focus was at optimum. Controlling breathing was essential, it was part of their training well before they ever put hands on a rifle. It helped take control of the body's automatic responses to dangerous situations, tactical breathing allowed her to calm her heart rate and with it quit her hand from shaking. Her focus was on the target and the target alone.

Ed let his eyes drift to Falman who involuntarily squeezed his upper arm and he knew the incision was started. He wanted to look but he was afraid that in doing so he would move and cause problems. He didn't want to give them any reason to abort this procedure.

"The artery branches off at the hand. You will want to see if you can cut into it further up, before it disappears, it will be largest there." Falman tried to keep his eyes on the cut, he was the one who had the diagram in his head. However blood was already obscuring the site and Rebecca was having to do this with only a pair of rusty forceps they found in the tool shed.

Rebecca finally found the artery and it rolled around under her finger. It was going to be difficult to hold in place while she inserted the needle but she wasn't going to give herself time to play around. The best plan was a swift surgery, for herself and the patients, and she was just going to have to stab at it until she succeeded. She was much better with a snap shot anyhow, taking too long wore her down. If she had chance to second guess herself, she would think too much. She took a stab and missed, pushing the needle into muscle instead. Two more tries ended in failure. "Shit this thing is small."

Ed looked over at Mustang expecting the man to suddenly grin at the mention of how 'small' his artery was. Crack a joke, even if to just keep everyone distracted. But Mustang was still just laying there unmoving. face and lips pale. Hair plastered to his face where it had stuck when he was sweating earlier. He wasn't sweating now, which made him wonder how dehydrated he was. Water would once again be an obstacle for the man as they needed to figure out a way to get some into him. If he survived this.

"You will have to make an incision." Falman said. "In the artery."

"For the method where you thread the donor artery into the patient's vein, yes. " Rebecca was quick to shoot him down. There was no way she was doing that. It was archaic and insane. "I don't have those instruments or ability. Flip to some different pages in that head of yours, Falman. I need instructions for this method. Not the manuals from 1907. Today. " Rebecca felt a rag dab on her brow as Falman wiped away some sweat. She never took her eyes from the incision, and Falman's grumble told her that he only read the manual about one method. _Great._

Falman could see Ed's jaw clench, the kid was losing faith. "I..."

"I got this. Sorry Ed, this is going to hurt." She quickly dropped the needle on the tray and took the scalpel again to open up more of his arm. She knew that the discovery of a smaller than expected artery should void the operation, the chances of her getting into it were lower now. It was best to just stop before opening up the patient's blood vessel and just deal with the incision in his forearm. Doing that would certainly condemn Mustang to death. She was more scared of what Ed would do to ensure he got him blood he needed than what she was currently doing to the young man's arm.

Ed could tell from the way Breda grimaced that things were not going as planned. There was line of pressure up his arm, then the pain of a slice that had to be three times as long as the original incision. There was no lidocaine to numb that area, so he focused on anatomy. Small. The artery was too small and she was having to open him up to see if it increased in diameter further up the arm. Soon she would run out of radial artery as it would merge into a much larger one, the brachial artery, in his bicep. Thank god for all those hours staring at anatomy posters in the Rockbell clinic. He spat out the spoon. "I can make the tools you need..."

"Like hell you will." She growled. "Put that spoon back in his mouth or gag him."

The pain was there now and he was reluctant to look at anyone too long knowing his eyes would water. He was glad to have the spoon return to clench down on. There was only so much Lidocaine, and they had hoped that the access to the artery at the wrist would be good enough. He could feel the searching for the radial artery, pushing muscles and tearing fascia. He crunched down on the spoon and reminded himself that this was nothing compared to the pain of nerves being reattached. This was nothing compared to having his arm and leg ripped off, albeit it would be easier if they were just severed and pumping blood out everywhere.

It was becoming desperation as Rebecca continued to hack up Ed's arm. She could understand now, how doctors and alchemists could go too far in a search for a solution. She was so focused that it was doubtful she'd know if Ed was bleeding to death from the slice in his arm. Everything had to be done by feel, and memory of a class she took years ago; memories of slicing up a cadaver who wasn't bleeding so damned much over her work area. She tossed the scalpel and grabbed the huge needle again, stabbing at a tiny rubbery artery who just was not cooperating. After two more tries, a shot of blood spurted out of the end and she paused to stare at it. A fountain of life, a fountain of youth. "I got it."

Falman was quick to say, "Thank God."

She nodded, affixing the tube to the end of the needle and using a clothespin to clamp it shut. Now the race was on against clotting. She didn't wipe her hands off, she just wiped the inside of Mustang's elbow with that drying piece of cheese cloth soaked in whiskey. The easiest part of all this was to get a needle in the man's vein. She had it attached to a syringe, it would be easier to guide into him and hold it that way. Second try and she was in. Then a draw of blood into the syringe, a twist to unlock it from the needle and a scramble to connect to the tube from Ed's arm. The tube was so short, as short as they could manage, so the blood would have the shortest route to travel. Their arms were inches apart. She put her hand on the clothespin and looked to Breda who was in charge of Ed's watch. "Ready?"

"Go." Breda said and watched the clothespin come off and the tube go from cloudy white to dark. It was their only chance to measure how much blood was flowing, that brief second between clamped tube to free flow and it was over so quick. Ed had done the calculations on the diameter of the tube and the volume of liquid that could be held between two marks he had made on it. They could stop and restart the flow, but it was doubtful that they could see it restart once the tube was discolored with blood. Ed's life was now in his hands and the kid's pocket watch felt heavy enough as it was.

The _tick toc_ of his watch over him was the backdrop to the tense portion of time when the procedure would either succeed or fail. Ed willed himself to stay still despite the pain in his exposed forearm. He chose to concentrate on Mustang's shallow breaths again, the ever so slow rise and fall of the man's chest that was the only indicator he had that he wasn't already gone but each move flexed his exposed arm. Maybe this would work, maybe that was the key to human transmutation that he didn't comprehend. A selfless sacrifice. It wasn't equivalent exchange if he sacrificed cheap ingredients and a drop of blood just to have his mother back. He was selfish in wanting her back. It wasn't about her, it was _always_ about him. He would have gained everything from the success of that transmutation and that was why he almost lost it all.

 _Tic Toc._ Their time with Mom had run out.

Even with Al, he simply didn't want to be left alone. He didn't realize how damned wrong he had been until Al wasn't there. How wanting his family back together back almost deprived him of the family he still had. He was so desperate, desperate enough to give up anything to have Al back, _have him back_ , not save his brother. Another selfish act that he paid for.

 _Tic Toc_. Al's time in his temporary vessel would run out.

He was scared now, scared because he was once again in danger of losing his own life but there was no regret in his decision. During his first battle the fear was so deeply rooted in being _alone_ and watching everything he believed in warped before his very eyes. This team, this bastard dying beside him, had protected him despite it all. It was a brotherhood, not by blood but forged in blood. No less than the bond he had with Al, just different. And he felt _right_ being able to give his other arm for Mustang, not out of obligation or guilt, but because it was what it was going to take to save him.

 _Tic Toc._ Mustang needed more time.

That man could save this team. He could stop Kimblee's rampage. He could save them from Scar again. He could free Hawkeye and Al, fix Havoc. Seeing what he could do with his alchemy, seeing the pure force of his power at work made Ed finally see how incredible the man really was. And like Kimblee said, _he was holding back_. So when the final fight came against the homunculus, Mustang would be so much more vital in that fight than him.

 _Tic Toc._

The watch. He stared at it, he had no idea how much time had elapsed or hadn't. He could feel tears in his eyes, he was so overwhelmed with exhaustion, fear and stress that he didn't know how to cope with it when he wasn't moving and doing something. His focus blurred but he could still see that damned watch, a token of his selfish desires and pride.

 _Tic Toc._

Silver, atomic number 47. A transition metal with high electrical and thermal conductivity. Silver, just like his automail. Silver, often symbolized wisdom, a precious metal that would tarnish without attention. A symbol of his vanity. What would any of it mean if he died here on this farm table? All just scrap metal. Right now the only thing of value he had was his blood, liquid life. In this situation, with all these lives depending on him, Mustang's blood was a lot more precious. And other than his brother, who did Ed have that depended on him anyway? Yes, they had friends that would be sad at his loss, but he had distanced himself from them on purpose. Al was a superior alchemist, he wasn't dependent on his brother to save him. Ed actually got them in more trouble and on more tangents, he was the one hurting the quest the most. Al would probably be better off without him. He slammed his eyes shut to stop the tears from coming. The truth hurt.

 _Tic Toc_.

He opened his eyes and returned to staring at the ceiling, letting the echo of the watch's movements fade into the background as he traced the cracks in the plaster with his eyes. As long as he could feel Mustang inhale and exhale, it meant he was still alive and he didn't need to look at anything else. Just the ceiling. Life mattered, but right now Mustang's life mattered more than his. His thoughts were getting erratic and his heart was pumping faster, perhaps to try to compensate for the blood loss. He felt light headed. He couldn't let on that maybe he had already given too much.

He could remember the days and nights he spent immobilized in the Rockbells, just staring at cracks in the walls and the ceiling to make the day go by. Back then he would think about how he could use alchemy to fix it, but wasn't able to due to only having one arm. It helped him cope with the boredom, pain and feeling of helplessness...and he lost himself in the welcoming arms of depression. Until this asshole showed up and screamed at him, challenged him, gave him a purpose. Now he needed to keep himself from being swallowed up by those lingering thoughts of defeat so instead he chose to focus on how his actions caused the people he cared for to suffer. Maybe it would brew some anger instead of acceptance.

And they all suffered in every sense of the word.

They suffered his temper and disrespect, his arrogance and impetuousness. His mother, his brother and now his commander. Tolerant and supportive, they picked him up when he was at his lowest points and urged him to carry on. And they paid the price for it. Without his interference they would not have suffered so much. A mother turned into a unrecognizable monster. A brother trapped in a cold shell of steel. A hero...haunted by his decisions now being drug back from the dead to keep living.

"Ed, how are you feeling?" Breda asked as he watched tears roll down the kid's cheeks. It wasn't because he was gritting his teeth in agony, he was struggling with something else.

Ed was shocked out of his memories with Breda's voice. His memories were becoming as bad as his nightmares and the truth was they that were indistinguishable from each other now. Something Mustang said, back when he was trying to fill him with liquid courage suddenly made sense. That no matter what you did these images were there in your head for life. And he wasn't going to let the image of burying the Colonel in a roadside grave be added to that horror show.

Breda watched a transformation occur as Ed's face lost the show of emotion, the way Mustang often did. That warmth of tears and an internal struggle were replaced by a stoic expression; eyelids closed over watery eyes to open and reveal cold, focused ones. The spoon was spat out of the kid's mouth and a look of determination crossed his face again; steeling himself against the pain, showing his true mettle. Fullmetal Alchemist indeed. And when they were once again out of harms way he'd be sure to tell him that the name was something he could forever take pride in, no matter how he felt about the obligations and affiliations that came with it.

"Philosophical." Ed replied and lifted his head off the table to see if he could. They wanted to know if he gave too much blood. He did feel weak, but he was going to blame that on the huge slice in his arm. God. He could see the muscles and fascia. This wasn't like looking into the gears of his automail, it was his real flesh. His blood was now over Mustang's chest from the incision and cursed the waste.

Falman wasn't sure if Ed looked paler or if he was just seeing things. "Ed, it's important to not drain yourself of blood. The Colonel wouldn't want that, and you know it."

Catalina looked up into her patients watery but intense eyes. It made her more concerned about how far this kid would go to make sure Mustang got blood. She didn't know what was possible with alchemy in this situation, but if Ed's actions in the truck were any indication of what he was capable of, she knew there was plenty she hadn't considered. "Breda..."

Breda continued to watch the clock, his own heartbeat pounding as he waited for the second hand to hit the '12' so he could say 'Stop'. He knew what Falman and Catalina were thinking, they had a kid who has already survived so much that was desperate to save his commander. Ed probably thought he could come back from this, just like he had done when he lost his limbs. He was blinded by his own desires to give Mustang back what he needed to fight on. "A few more seconds Ed, and I'm cutting you off."

"No, keep going. I feel fine." Ed knew that sounded less forceful than he intended an wasn't fooling anyone. It was a damned lie. Shit, he could barely keep his head up.

"I heard rumors, about this procedure being done during Ishval." Rebecca said, her somber voice making Ed's eyes flutter with curiosity instead of the hardness they just had. "From the medics who trained me. It was hot, there weren't many options for blood storage especially on the front lines. The rumors were...that experiments were done on prisoners of war, that when blood was needed they would drain them in order to save the soldiers. Ed, you wouldn't stand for that to be done to someone else, so don't do it to yourself."

Ed wished he could doubt that, but it wasn't in him anymore. That was awful and awful was no longer something that was a concept but a reality. Hell, it was standard operating procedure. "I survived worse. Give him more."

"Stop." Breda said and slapped the watch shut, and leaned on Ed to stop him from moving.

"No!" Ed cried out. "The only way you're stitching my arm up is if I'm unconscious! I won't lay still for that, give him the blood until I pass out! We only get this one shot..."

Rebecca had already clamped the tube and removed the needle from Mustang's arm. They knew it wasn't the pain driving him to say this, it was his fear that it wouldn't be enough. That the procedure could only be done once and if they stopped too soon it would be impossible to reopen him. She leaned over him and looked him in the eye. Ed's eyes were watering, begging her to continue. "You don't get to make this call. You've done everything you can and you _will_ lay perfectly still while I get this artery repaired. You are not in charge here, not while your life is in my hands."

"He's lost too many people already Ed." Breda whispered. "He lives and you die, we lose him anyway. He can't carry around another loss that heavy, none of us can. You did your best, now it's up to him."

He had spent his energy already and just let his head fall back on the table and roll to the side to look at Mustang's face again. He hoped maybe there would be some color there. Was it selfish of him to want to make the man live on, as haunted as he clearly was. Was he really just too scared to be alone again and making rash decisions to save himself the pain. "How long til this helps him?"

"Immediately." Falman said. "You however may take up to five days to recover from it."

"Blood carries oxygen too. That should help him." Ed mumbled. "My blood's also not diluted with booze. Hear that bastard? Hope it stunts your growth and makes you want to punch yourself in the face."

Rebecca tried not to listen to Ed, he sounded tired and lost and it was a strained attempt to sound like his old self. He was doing it for them and they all knew it. She worried that they took too much from him. She was losing focus now that she couldn't stop the blood pumping out of Ed's artery. The sewing needle was considerably smaller than the large needle she skewered the artery with. It was clotting, blood from the area was from surrounding tissue, but this hole was big in comparison. They needed to hold it together to make sure it didn't open up and leave a tail so she could go back in later and snip the suture. She still couldn't believe she manage to get this far in the process. "You need to rest, Ed. That will help your body replace the blood you just gave. We'll wake you up to make sure you're doing OK."

"Is he going to make it?" Ed asked and looked up at her. He heard his own voice crack, he sounded like a fucking kid again. That kid who crawled into bed next to his dying mother and felt her clammy skin and shallow breaths and didn't know what it meant. Now he knew all too well.

"He's got a better chance now." Rebecca said. She was having a hard time getting a knot tight enough to keep the artery closed. "I'm going to have to stitch you up and I don't have anything to numb that pain."

"It's fine." Ed said and let his head roll to the side so he could keep an eye on Mustang to watch for movement or any indication he was benefiting from the procedure. He still looked like he was just one step away from death's door. He was afraid to close his eyes now, afraid that if he did Mustang would be in his dreams asking why he did this to him. Afraid that when he opened his eyes he would find out Mustang really was a ghost and any hope they had would be replaced with despair.


	10. For a kingdom any oath may be broken

_Battle Cry_

Chapter 10

" **For a kingdom any oath may be broken."**

-Henry VI

* * *

 _Ed stood in the hallway at home again, feeling the unavoidable pull from the study. The floorboards were sticky with blood, the air was thick with the smell of decay and the silence was broken by the guttural sounds of agony coming from inside the room. Ed could feel the tears streaking down his face, scared that the nightmare had once again changed and that Mustang would be there in that room._

 _Pale. Bloody. Malformed. Another victim of his alchemy._

"Ed."

 _He walked forward, just as he always did, towards the warm glow. He was drawn to it. It wasn't enlightenment or illumination to chase off the evil in the darkness, it was truth. The cruel truth he had known, the unfair and vicious truth that could twist his limbs off and destroy his world. The glow was from alchemy and it was far from his salvation, it had been his own damnation._

 _He finally arrived and stepped into the study. His bare feet transitioned from tacky blood to the ooze of that soldier's boiling flesh. He felt the fat between his toes and how it pulled from the skin as he stepped closer to the transmutation circle. Darkness hid the occupants from him, but he could hear the moans. The chalk outline was there glowing and swirling with power; the source of this light, the showcase of his mistakes. The circle he had draw with his own hands._

 _Hands materialized out of the shadows of that glow, the small black hands that reached out from the gate when he passed though it. They entwined him and locked on, he felt trapped and was helpless against their hold. He tried to shut his eyes, not wanting to see the truth any more, but they held his eyelids open. Another hand rose from the smoke and he knew it well; it was that creature that was supposed to be Mom. He wondered if she could see him, see what a disappointment he was. See how he let her down and ruined everyone's life._

"Edward."

 _The harshest truth to swallow was not that life wasn't fair, but that he was a failure. Was that what he had been running from this entire time? Was that why he burned down their house? Was that why he was planning to run from this war? He was trapped now, so far away from everything that made him feel safe, and all he could see was how wrong he had been. Truth, what he as an alchemist sought out more than anything, was right before his eyes and he could no longer look away._

 _The creature's hand reached out for his arm and tugged. He could smell the components of the smoke, that sickening smell of sweat, charred human and acrid stench of the darkest smoke that came from utter destruction..._

"Fullmetal!"

Ed's eyes shot open and his breath was rapid and heart racing. He was wide awake immediately and he quickly turned to look at Mustang who still was right next to him on the table. There was only one person who would call him that and he almost started crying out of happiness because that asshole was the person who did. "Colonel?"

Ed sounded sacred, desperate. Roy tried to move but felt the pain and a weight on his chest. He glanced down at his shirtless torso and Ed's arm on it, the arm wrapped in a bandage with a splint made of wood board and baling twine. The twine was woven between his fingers and his hand wrapped flat against it. Someone was making sure he wouldn't move it. What the hell was going on? "Are you hurt? What happened to your arm?"

Ed was speechless. Was he seriously asking about his condition when he was the one that almost died? He realized that the person pulling on his sleeve in the dream was Mustang, as he tried to wake him from his nightmare. The smell of the smoke, was the lingering smells of battle in his hair. The voice...had been his. He took a deep breath and held it, he had to get himself under control.

"Did you break your arm?" Roy asked. His voice came out raspy, his mouth was so dry. Why the hell wasn't he answering?

"Yes..." Ed said and wondered how he knew about what he did to his automail, then it occurred to him that Mustang was asking about the arm on his chest. "No! Not that one. I...gave blood."

Roy's eyes searched the room, he swallowed and his mouth felt like cotton. He just woke up, Ed had been twitching beside him and sounded like he was in danger, it must have just been another one of his nightmares. It was still enough to shock him awake and be ready to fight. The adrenaline ebbed and the pain came rushing over him like a tidal wave. He laid still to get his bearings first before making another move. "Where are we?"

"Farmhouse north of Vertigris. We had to find somewhere we could get you fixed up." Ed couldn't believe he was really awake. He forgot about his nightmare and stared at Mustang as he swallowed and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. He was breathing, shallow breaths because of the pain in his ribs. But he was breathing. "You're alive."

Roy mulled that over. Ed said it with relief, joy. He looked at Ed's arm again, then the tray of supplies left on the table beside them. The patch on his arm. The kid's arm braced so he couldn't move it. Fogginess from sleep and pain left as he realized that the kid had once again sacrificed too much. "What did you _do_?"

Ed was surprised at how angry he sounded. Then Mustang's eyes fixed on him and he was too tired to fight. He just wanted to be happy he was alive and now he knew he was just going to have to brace for the storm. The Colonel was pissed and it was going to get worse once he knew the true scope of what happened. "I fixed your rib with some of my automail and you lost a lot of blood and my type was the only one you could have...and..."

"A field blood transfusion..." _He gave blood._ Shit. "Who was stupid enough to agree to that?"

"You were _going to die_." Ed felt overwhelmed as he said it, tears started to well up in his eyes. "I told you, I'm not going to kill anyone. That includes you."

He was ready to yell at him like he had done to Hawkeye after the battle with Lust. Berate him for being so foolish, for giving up, but he could hear how emotional he was. How desperate he was. " I know what I signed up for, I know the consequences of my actions and I take full responsibility for them. Don't you risk your life for something so foolish again."

"You would have died!" Ed repeated. "You saved my life and I gave you life in return. It's equivalent exchange!"

"Didn't you learn anything when you tried bring someone back from the dead last time?" Roy spat and tried to move and his ribs screamed in protest while the bullet wounds throbbed a pulsating heat and pain to remind him that they were still there.

Ed felt wounded and struggled to bounce back. "Yeah, I learned the consequences of my actions and to take full responsibility for them. To wear them, to drag it around with me for life and have them haunt me in the darkness. I'm not letting someone else die, not when I can help them. That's what life is about, it's about making choices to be human and not walk around an empty vessel. I'd do it all over again if I had to. So fuck you, you're not dying today."

"Life, which you have so much more to live. God Ed, you're just a kid...you made mistakes but you...were just a kid." Roy groaned. Why was it so hard to protect people? "Someone should have been there to stop you, you didn't know what consequences meant. You were just a kid and nobody was there for you. Someone should have stopped you. Someone should have stopped you this time."

"Shut up, bastard." Ed let his head roll away. He could hear in Mustang's voice and his repetitive babble how exhausted he was. The brief argument had already drained him. "I was in charge. So I disabled both my arms, deserted with your team, gave you half my blood and if you don't get better I'm marching this command back to Amestris to dump you in a hospital and go fight Kimblee beside the Ishvalian refugees."

"Holy shit you've outdone yourself." Roy whispered.

"That was the only option." Ed said dryly. "You left me in charge."

Roy tried to move but was already short of breath. He didn't even know where to start to make sense of any of that. He needed Breda to report the current situation. "Where is everyone?"

"I...don't know." Ed said and looked around. It was dark outside, night had fallen. It was probably why they couldn't hear the artillery anymore, the battle had come to a close for the day. "Probably getting the truck ready to move us. Breda is nervous about staying here this long."

"We go back." Roy said and stopped trying to move. He was in pain every way he twisted and Ed's arm worried him. He wasn't going to chance moving it, he had seen field transfusions during the war and he knew the sight of an artery dumping liquid life onto the floor. "Do you think I gave you that lecture on duty so you could just leave the first opportunity you were given? It was about us, soldiers, about this profession we have chosen. We understand the risks, we accept them. We are not greater than any of it."

Ed was annoyed that all Mustang saw was his desire to run away from his mistakes. Dammit he did what was necessary to protect everyone and it wasn't cowardice! "That's _not_ what happened."

"Then report, Major." Roy looked at the kid and wished he had never brought him into this. All he wanted was to protect this little shit from himself and now...he was in the middle of this and already sacrificing for him. That...was the last thing he wanted. However he just gave blood, and use of two arms and alchemy to save his life. He hoped they lived through this so he could pin a damned medal on the kid for what he did. "Tell me everything."

"In the car, you were suffocating. A broken rib, punctured your chest cavity. I used a piece of automail to fix it. Kimblee blew up our car and gave us an ultimatum: Leave or die. I couldn't fight him. I just removed a functional piece my arm so I couldn't fight him and he was going to beat me to a transmutation."

"I left you in charge for _five_ minutes..."

"Shut up." Ed said. He watched a smile form on Mustang's face. For a brief second, it felt like how things used to be. They enjoyed the silence for a moment as a calm fell over them both, enjoying that pause in this hell to pine for how simple things used to be in the past.

"It was the right thing to do. He would have killed you." Roy gave him a much needed compliment. He needed the reassurance. The truth was that Ed's quick thinking had saved his life and those of everyone else in that car, but to tell him he was a hero for what he did would send the wrong message now. He needed him to focus on acting as part of the army, not against it.

"I don't know what his motivations are. He's either not worried about being held accountable because he's never been properly punished for Ishval or...what? What could he possibly gain from this?" Ed asked. Kimblee was unknown components, he had no idea what the man was made of. It was why his mind couldn't get wrapped around him, he was material he wasn't used to dealing with.

"You're an experiment." Roy replied. "He's curious to see how far he can push you. He's still an alchemist, he's inciting a chemical reaction. Will you yield and conform, or will you react and how violently? You're right, he fears no retribution. He is the chess piece that can move anywhere on the board, there are no rules that he plays by. He wants to see what your moves are."

"Great." Ed stared at the ceiling again and knew he should call for the rest of the team, but he wanted just a few more minutes alone with the Colonel to figure out what needed to be done. He needed to get himself together, he had opponents lining up for a fight and he was in pieces. Literally and figuratively.

"We have to get back to camp, Ed. You want to best him at this game, you just walk back into that tent and do your job. Anything else will be a dereliction of duty." Roy didn't know how to get through to him that this was the only option. _This_. Not trekking across an unknown country with two disabled alchemists in search of an Ishvalian community they didn't have any intel on. That, however, was very much a Fullmetal plan. "We are at war, Ed. This isn't Amestris, this is Aerugo. This is enemy territory. You don't speak or read their language, you don't have any power here. That watch will only get you shot. We belong with the main force and we will reunite with them, understand?"

Ed knew he couldn't do that. Returning to camp meant being put back on the chain. A chain around Mustang's neck to choke what life remained from him. A chain around his own, tethering him to rules and regulations. Heading North was not much better but it gave him the advantage. Kimblee was right, Mustang would crawl out of bed and kill himself trying to get back to work and save this team. He was trying to do it now and the only reason he was not on the floor was because a fragile arm was on his chest. He could hear how parched he was and knew he needed to remain hydrated. "There is a canteen there, you need to drink. It's our water, Falman said we should stay away from using local water."

Mustang watched Ed prepare to get up and worried that the movement would compromised his arm. "Where are you going?"

"To get the others." Ed said and looked at Mustang as a hand wrapped around the wood board attached to his arm.

"It can wait." Roy said and pulled the board back where it had been laying. He reached up with his other arm and grunted through the pain of the bullet wounds to grab the canteen. He propped himself up enough to get a drink without choking. He was a mess and nobody needed to tell him he was completely useless right now. "They'll be here when they have something to report. You need to recover. You've done enough. Get rest while you can, the return back to the army will be a dangerous road."

Ed took the canteen when it was offered to him and Mustang settled back down on the table to close his eyes and recover from the exhaustion of the conversation. He took a sip and put the cap back on, their water supply was low and he didn't need it as much as Mustang did. He set the canteen down close to him so he could reach it without a lot of effort. Then checked the Colonel's bandages to make sure he didn't cause any bleeding to start again and finally put his head back down to rest. He felt more at ease, less anxious. Their efforts weren't for nothing, Mustang was alive.

* * *

Ed didn't return to the nightmare after dosed off again. He woke when he heard the team coming into the kitchen, trying to be quiet on a squeaky old floor, and he was surprised when he smelled cigarette smoke. It was a nice departure from how he woke up earlier and he slowly opened his eyes. He looked around to determine who smelled like Havoc, it was Catalina who was beside the table again checking on her patients. "Colonel, they're here."

Rebecca was checking Mustang's vitals. "Was he awake?"

"Yeah..." Ed looked over at the Colonel who was most definitely not conscious. Now he wasn't sure if that had been a dream or not. "You didn't hear him?"

"I was taking a smoke break outside while the guys got the truck ready." Rebecca replied. A much needed smoke break. No wonder Jean went through so many cartons, Mustang was a stressful man to work for. "I left the window open so I could hear you if you called. I might have dosed off for a little while though."

Ed took a deep breath. Well, to add to the mounting problems he was possibly hallucinating. He looked up to see if the canteen was where he remembered putting it. It was, but that didn't prove much. "Is he OK?"

"Still alive, but unresponsive." She said and put her hand to the man's forehead to see if he was feverish. Their only thermometer available was a animal one and that was rectal use only. Surgery was one thing, rolling the man over and shoving a cattle thermometer up his ass was another. It's not like they had anything to counteract a fever anyhow, there was a bottle of Penicillin in the fridge but that was not universal like the tetanus shot had been. She just opted to let that temperature wait for a real medical professional, her relationship with Mustang was tense enough as it was. "At this point, I've done everything I can do."

Ed nodded and twitched as she touched his arm to check on it. He looked down at the black horsehair stitches and knew he too was vulnerable to infection. This whole team was vulnerable, they would protect their useless alchemists and that made him and Mustang a liability. Their guns would be little use against Kimblee or Scar, and they were limited on ammunition and supplies. They had to move and it was his move to make. "What's happened while I was out?"

Breda sat down and unraveled the roll of butcher paper they discovered in the pantry. "Falman has drawn us a map of the territory from memory. This is a replica of the the most recent one the engineer corps provided to the Colonel prior to the battle. The map we had was simply of Vertigris and we are beyond the borders of what that map entailed."

Ed glanced over to Falman and said, "Great work."

Breda smiled, the kid was getting used to filling in for Mustang. They didn't need a teenager to encourage them to do their job, but it gave them hope that this war hadn't destroyed this kid they all had grown to love as one of their own. To see Ed like he was when they arrived, quiet and reserved, made them feel like the war had already taken him from them. "Fuery drove out to try to get radio contact and scout the area. We're out of range. The army has pushed South, to pursue the enemy. Opening radio contact will, unfortunately, be broadcast to anyone listening so he couldn't hail for help."

 _Anyone_ listening. Like Kimblee or Scar. Or countless mercenaries. Their biggest enemies were no longer wearing the red of Auergo. Breda knew it didn't have to be said and there was no reason to bother the rest of the team with this. It was for the commanding officer and his second in command. Breda held up the map for him so he didn't have to move. Locations were marked on the map of the farmhouse and the estimation of movement for the main army.

"We don't know if the roads west of Vertigris are still in our hands. We plan on moving at night, that way there are less local eyes on our movements and hopefully they mistake us for their own forces." Breda continued. "As we go, we will have to assess the situation. Our best guess is that the army is here, based off of maintaining a contact with reserve forces, supply lines and defensive positions we have taken. That is still approximately a hundred miles from our current position, at best. We moved out in advance of the infantry, then after the battle pushed north of town approximately twenty miles. The army was moving in the opposite direction at that time."

Ed cleared his throat. "Kimblee is now free to encourage the General to continue moving South. He wants denser populated areas to wreak havoc on. They won't be back. "

"That's our conclusion too." Breda replied. He could see Ed's eyes dart across the map, taking it all in. "They probably sent out special forces to look for us, but leaving the car the way we did...they more than likely think we're dead or captured."

 _Well done Kimblee, everything was a calculated move._ That made the decision even easier, considering Kimblee was already steps ahead of them. It was a chess game to him, and he was waiting for Ed's play. Ed understood they couldn't just walk away from the army, that didn't need to be reiterated to him. They were all professional soldiers, they all had a war to fight. However going South, deeper into enemy territory, was more of a gamble than heading North to take their chances at the border.

Ed rolled his head over to look at Mustang. It wasn't what he wanted, he knew that. Whether it was a figment of his imagination or that conversation actually took place, Mustang made it clear that duty was to be held above all else. However he wasn't Mustang, he was Edward Elric and _this_ was his forte; Traveling through unknown countryside, ignoring the military when it called him to return and acting as an independent force of his own. Was it treason? Without a doubt, but he was loyal to his country not it's figurehead. He was loyal to _this asshole_ who wanted to rise to the top, Mustang was their King and not some homunculus manipulating them from afar. Bradley couldn't pull strings if the lines were cut. "We head North. Ishvalians will know how to get across the border without detection, they fled Amestris that way. We have to get the Colonel home, that is his best chance at survival. I'll negotiate safe passage."

It was a bold statement, one nobody in the room bought even though it was said with the utmost confidence. Catalina couldn't let it slide. "How are you going to do that Ed?"

"They're in danger. Kimblee is here to finish what he started and he will find a way to put them in his path." Ed looked back at the team and they looked surprised. Except for Breda, he gave him an encouraging nod. This was a decisive move on his part, the real moment he took charge of this team and started acting like a soldier. He wasn't one of them and never would be, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable. "They need a hero and thankfully they have one of their own who wants to eliminate all State Alchemist from this earth. If Scar isn't there already, he will be. I'll make sure of it."

There was silence as they debated on the ethics of this move. They all wanted to save Mustang and the border between Aerugo and Amestris was probably closer than the army at this point. Vertigris had been a target because of it's proximity to their country, seizing it would have given them another foothold to support the army's drive South. Catalina just wasn't sure counting on a former enemy was the right move. Then there was Scar, who most definitely was an enemy they didn't want to invite into this already complicated situtation. They were screwed no mater which way they turned. "What do we know about the Ishvalians here?"

"The refugees were the Ishvalians who refused to take up arms. They left either when Amestris annexed Ishval, when the war began or soon after. Auergo would send munitions across the border and bring back families that wanted to escape. " Falman said. "There is a possibility we can find a healer among them."

"For the Flame Alchemist?" Catalina said skeptically.

"Our other option is to try to cross the border where there will be significant military activity and heighten security." Breda said. "Although we might be able to make contact with our own forces, our best course of action to cease all communications and try to stay under the radar. Aerugian citizens will be quick to act on our presence, Ishvalians less so. Even in this country they are pariahs."

Ed wondered how the hell Breda could still be just a 2nd Lieutenant. He could feel the indecision though and said authoritatively, "Mustang needs medical attention, we can't waste any more time. We're lucky nobody has found us yet. We leave as soon as possible."

Then he saw it, that look they all gave Mustang when he walked up and made them all feel like he was totally in control. It was actually encouraging and gave him the strength to sit up. "Lieutenant Catalina, can you get the board off my arm and pass me my uniform?"


End file.
